


What Was and What Should Be

by LisaDawn75



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 20:43:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 53,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8504725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LisaDawn75/pseuds/LisaDawn75
Summary: The Winchester brothers crisscross the country, saving people and hunting things. Only, they have a third person along for the adventure. This is a story where each chapter will be an episode rewritten to include this new character and how her presence impacts Sam and Dean.





	1. Chapter 1

  
A/N: So, this is my first foray into writing and posting Supernatural fanfic. I just discovered the show a couple of months ago (how did I ever miss seeing this show before???) and as soon as Dean said “Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days” I was hooked. And totally smitten with Dean. I am now officially obsessed with him, and I want Dean to be happy, so I’ve come up with this idea to rewrite each Supernatural episode with an OC for Dean. We will see how she develops…

I’m thinking of laying this out as each season will be a story and each episode will be a chapter. I am taking some artistic license with them and will be changing some things and some dialogue. Also, it is rated M for a reason as I don’t see the boys editing their language like on TV and also for smut. I can’t help it… Dean plus smut makes this girl happy!

I hope you enjoy. Please drop me a line when you are done and let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I’m only playing with the characters and will return them when I’m done.

Chapter 1 – Pilot

* * *

 

Sam Winchester ran his hands through his hair one last time, wishing he could think of a good reason to stay at home instead of attending a big Halloween party at one of the local pubs. He would much rather stay in and maybe watch a scary movie with Jessica or study.

"Sam! Get a move on, would ya?" Jessica Moore yelled at him, fastening her earring. "We were supposed to be there like fifteen minutes ago. Sam! You coming or what?"

He stuck his head out of the bathroom door and flashed his dimples at her. "Do I have to?" he asked.

Jess turned to face him and smiled. "Yes! It'll be fun. And where's your costume?"

He scoffed, a grin still on his face when he saw her. She was dressed in a slutty nurse costume with a fitted corset, extremely short skirt and red fuck me heeled boots. She definitely looked hot, and he certainly didn’t mind showing up at a party with her on his arm. He was one lucky bastard. "You know how I feel about Halloween," he replied, still dressed in his clothes from earlier in the day, his denim jacket still on.

She smiled, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. He was 6'4" and super handsome with his shaggy hair and killer smile. He was smart and funny and sweet, and she knew he was one of the main catches on campus. "Please?" she drawled out, knowing exactly how to get her way with him. "I'll make it worth your while later...when we get home," she said softly, pulling her lower lip between her teeth.

Sam shook his head and smiled at her. "Fine. I'll go, but I'm only doing it for you," he said, kissing her quickly before guiding her out of the apartment.

When they arrived, they found their friends who had already claimed a table. Drinks and shots were ordered, and neither Sam nor Jessica wasted any time. She stood by the table and held her shot glass up. "So, here's to Sam and his awesome LSAT victory!"

He clinked his glass with hers and Luis’s, embarrassed. His dad had never recognized any kind of academic success, only monster kills, so he had never gotten comfortable being in the spotlight for his intelligence. "All right, all right. It's not that big a deal."

Jess, however, was extremely proud of her boyfriend. "He acts all humble, but he scored a 174."

Luis set his glass down quickly. "Is that good?" he asked. Even though he wasn't sure what a "good" score was, he was impressed. He knew Sam was super smart, and he knew he would make an excellent lawyer one day.

"Scary good," Jessica replied with a smile before downing her shot.

Luis slapped Sam on the shoulder in congratulations. "You are a first round draft pick," he said. "You can go to any law school you want."

Sam grinned shyly. "Actually, I got an interview here Monday. If it goes okay, I think I got a shot at a full ride next year."

Jess leaned forward and smiled at him. "Hey, it's gonna go great."

Sam smiled back and shook his head slightly. "It better."

"How does it feel to be the golden boy in your family?" Luis asked loudly.

"Ah, they don't know," Sam replied, shaking his head.

"Oh, no. I would be gloating! Why not?" Luis asked, standing up.

"Cause we're not exactly the Bradys," Sam said, throwing a wadded up straw at him.

"I'm not exactly the Huxtables," he said snarkily. "More shots?"

"No," Sam and Jess both said at the same time, but Luis ignored them and headed to the bar.

"Seriously," Jessica said to Sam, "I'm proud of you. And you're gonna knock them dead on Monday. You're gonna get that full ride. I know it."

Sam felt a warm feeling spread inside. It had been a long time since anyone had told him that. To his dad, he had basically been a disappointment as he hadn't wanted to go into the "family business" and wanted to go to college and live a normal life. "What would I do without you?" he asked her softly.

Jess grinned at the compliment. "Crash and burn," she joked, pulling him in and kissing him soundly.

They spent another hour at the party before heading home. Sam had had enough of the whole Halloween thing, plus the tequila shots were giving him a headache. He was ready to take a shower and go to bed.

~xXx~

"Are you sure about this?" Devon McClane asked worriedly.

Dean Winchester turned to look at her and scoffed. "Uh, yeah," he simply said, returning to picking the lock in front of him.

"Why didn't you just call him, though? You haven't seen Sam in two years, and now, you're just gonna break into his apartment? In the middle of the night? What if he shoots you?"

He smirked as the lock clicked open. He pushed the door open silently and grinned at her. "He's not gonna shoot me," he said confidently and walked inside. Devon followed him silently, a few yards back.

Dean walked into the living room, and Devon watched as he was grabbed from behind. She stared silently as Dean fought against who she knew was Sam, but she was still too shocked to say anything. She wondered why Dean didn't just announce to Sam who he was.

They threw each other around the room, trading kicks and blocking punches. Finally, Dean managed to take him to the ground, and the streetlight outside illuminated his face. "Whoa, easy, tiger," he joked with a smirk.

Sam looked up at him in shock, trying to catch his breath. "Dean?" he asked, amazed. "You scared the shit out of me."

"That's cause you're out of practice."

Sam gritted his teeth and rolled them over, so he was now on top of Dean, his hand at his throat.

Dean chuckled. "Or not. Get off me," he said, pushing his younger brother off of him and letting Sam help pull him to his feet.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing here?" Sam asked, still in shock.

Dean clapped him on the shoulders, looking at his little brother and grinning. "I was looking for a beer. You remember Devon, right?" he asked as she came over to stand by him.

Sam hugged her quickly. "Of course, but why is she with you?"

She squeezed him back before stepping away. "Long story," she said when the light was flipped on.

"Sam?" Jessica asked, her eyes still heavy with sleep. They all looked over at her at the same time.

"Jess, hey. Dean, Devon…this is my girlfriend, Jessica."

A look of surprise and excitement crossed her face. "Wait. Your brother, Dean?"

Dean smirked at her. "I love the Smurfs," he said, indicating her cutoff top she had been sleeping in that revealed a little too much skin. "Ow!" he yelled when Devon slapped him across the back of the head, making Sam chuckle. "This is my girlfriend, Devon. You know, I gotta tell you, you are completely out of my brother's league."

She smiled. "Just let me put something on."

Dean shook his head. "No, no! I wouldn't dream of it, seriously." He turned to Sam when Devon cleared her throat. He couldn't help it; he was a hopeless flirt. "Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here. Talk about some private family business, but nice meeting you."

Jessica just stood there and looked at Sam.

"No," Sam said, determined. He walked over and stood beside her. "No, whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her."

Dean pursed his lips for a second and put his arm around Devon, reflecting the way Sam and Jess were standing. "Okay. Um, Dad hasn't been home in a few days."

Sam scoffed. "So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later."

Dean nodded and looked pointedly at his brother. "Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days."

Sam felt his stomach clench. Even though he had fallen out with his dad and they hadn't spoken in four years, he knew what that meant. And he didn't want anything bad to happen to his dad. He stared at Dean for a moment. "Jess, excuse us," he said. He had never told Jessica about his past – about hunting. One, he had left that life behind him. Two, he was afraid she would think he was crazy.

"Okay," she said, questions on her face. He kissed her quickly and followed Dean and Devon outside.

"So, what do you want me to do?" he asked Dean as he shut the door behind them.

Dean headed down the stairs, Devon on his heels. "I need you to come with us to find Dad."

"Come on, you can't just break in in the middle of the night and expect me to hit the road with you," Sam said.

"You're not hearing me, Sammy. Dad's missing. I need you to help us find him."

Sam threw his hands up. "You remember the poltergeist in Amherst or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He's always missing, and he's always fine."

Dean stopped and turned to him, Devon barreling into his chest at his sudden stop. He caught her easily. "Not for this long. Now, are you gonna come with me or not?"

"I'm not."

"Why not?" Dean asked, beginning to get pissed off. Devon put her hand on his arm, not wanting them to get into a real fight on the stairs.

Sam looked at them both seriously. "I swore I was done hunting...for good."

Dean scoffed again. "Come on. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad." He turned and walked away. He had never really understood what Sam had against hunting. He had always loved it. It was what he was good at.

"Yeah?" Sam asked in disbelief. "When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45!"

"What was he supposed to do?" Dean asked, facing his brother again.

Sam looked at him in surprise. "I was nine years old. He was supposed to say 'don't be afraid of the dark.’"

Dean looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "'Don't be afraid of the dark?’ Are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark! You know what's out there!"

"Yeah, I know. Still...after the way we grew up after Mom was killed and Dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her, but we still haven't found the damn thing. So, we kill everything we can find."

"Save a lot of people doing it, too," Dean retorted.

Sam stared at him. "You think Mom would have wanted this for us?" he asked.

Dean turned and pushed the door open, walking away from Sam, Devon behind him. His mother was always a sore subject for him.

"The weapon training and melting the silver into bullets?" Sam asked, following them. "Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors."

"So, what are you gonna do?" Dean asked him. "Are you just gonna live some normal, apple-pie life? Is that it?"

"No, not normal. Safe."

Dean glared at him. "And that's why you ran away." He scoffed, shaking his head.

"I was just going to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go, I should stay gone," Sam said. "And that's what I'm doing."

"Yeah, but Dad's in real trouble right now, if he's not dead already. I can feel it," Dean replied. They stared at each other for a moment. "I can't do this without you," Dean finally said, looking away.

"Yes, you can," Sam said, surprised.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. But I don't want to."

Sam sighed. "What was he hunting?" he finally asked.

"Follow me,” Dean said, leading him to the trunk of the 1967 Impala his dad had given him. He opened the trunk and propped the false bottom up with a sawed off shotgun. Handguns, knives, crucifixes and an assortment of other weapons for hunting monsters was revealed. His weapon collection was one thing Dean was very proud of. “Where the hell did I put that thing?” he muttered, shifting through stuff.

"So when Dad left, why didn’t you go with him?” Sam asked.

“I was working my own gig – this voodoo thing down in New Orleans.”

Sam scoffed. “Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?”

Dean looked at him, surprised. “I'm twenty-six, dude. Beside, Devon was with me. All right, here we go. So, Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California.” He leafed through a stack of papers he had printed out earlier. “About a month ago, this guy… They found his car, but he’d vanished. Completely MIA.” He handed the paper to Sam.

Sam skimmed the article. “So, maybe he was kidnapped.”

“Yeah, well, here’s another one in April, another one in December ’04, ’03, ’98, ’92, ten of them over the past twenty years. All men. All the same five mile stretch of road. Started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I haven’t heard from him since, which is bad enough, and then I get this voicemail yesterday.” He pulled a small recorder out and hit play.

"Dean, something is starting to happen,” John’s voice said, slightly distorted. “I think it’s serious. I need to try to figure out what’s going on. Be very careful, Dean. We’re all in danger.”

Dean pushed stop and looked at Sam.

“You know there’s EVP on that?” Sam asked.

“Not bad, Sammy. Kind of like riding a bike, isn’t it? All right. I slowed the message down and ran it through a GoldWave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got.” He pushed play again, and a female voice came through the speakers saying, “I can never go home.”

"Never go home," Sam repeated.

Dean nodded and stood up, shutting the trunk. “You know, in almost two years, I’ve never bothered you, never asked you for a thing.” He stared at Sam and wrapped an arm around Devon, who had moved closer to him in the dark.

Sam sighed. “All right, I’ll go. I’ll help you find him, but I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here.”

“What’s first thing Monday?”

“I have an interview.”

“What, a job interview? Skip it,” Dean said with a shrug, making Devon shake her head at his nonchalance about a real job.

Sam straightened up. “It’s a law school interview, and it’s my whole future on a plate.”

Dean smirked at him. “Law school?”

“So, we got a deal or not?”

He looked at Sam for a moment, and then nodded his head. "Sure. I'll have you back here by Monday morning."

Sam nodded in reply. “Okay. Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.” He sprinted back up the stairs to the apartment. He pulled his duffle bag out of the closet and started packing items he had never thought he would use again.

Jessica walked in and found him packing. “Wait, you're taking off? Is this about your dad? Is he all right?”

Sam tried to play it off, not wanting to worry her, but mostly not wanting to get into details. As far as Jess knew, he was a normal guy. “Yeah. You know, just a little family drama.”

"But your brother said he was on some kind of hunting trip.”

Sam threw some clothes in his bag. He felt bad about lying to Jessica, but the less she knew about hunting, the better. “Ah, yeah… He’s just deer hunting up at the cabin, and he’s probably got Jim, Jack and Jose all along with him. We’re just gonna go bring him back.” His dad’s alcohol use had always been a sore subject for him.

“What about the interview?”

“I’ll make the interview. This is only for a couple days.” He zipped the bag up and started to walk away.

Jessica stopped him. “Sam, I mean, please. Just stop for a second. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Sam looked her in the eyes. “Hey, everything’s gonna be okay. I promise.” He kissed her on the cheek and walked out the door.

“At least tell me where you’re going!” she called, but he ignored her, not wanting to say anymore than he already had.

xXx

Devon stood by the back of the Impala, stretching her back. She had slept in the back seat while Dean had driven, and he and Sam had caught up. She hadn’t wanted to interfere in their brotherly bonding time.

Dean walked out of the gas station, holding up a bag of chips, a soft drink and a candy bar. “Hey, you want breakfast?” he asked Sam, who was sitting in the front seat.

Sam made a face at his brother's food choices. "No, thanks. So, how’d you pay for that stuff? You and Dad still running credit card scams?” He was shifting through an old shoe box full of cassette tapes.

Dean was filling the car up with gas. “Yeah, well, hunting ain’t exactly a pro-ball career. Besides, all we do is apply. It’s not our fault they send us the cards.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, and what names did you write on the application this time?”

He had replaced the gas cap, and Devon slid into the front seat ahead of him, so she was between the Winchesters. “Uh… Bert Aframian and his son, Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal,” he said with a grin, handing his breakfast to Devon while he got settled in the driver’s seat.

Sam laughed again. "Sounds about right.” He was still looking through the tapes. “I swear, man, you have got to update your cassette tape collection.”

Dean looked insulted. “Why?”

“Well, for one – they’re cassette tapes. And two…Black Sabbath, Motörhead, Metallica? It’s the greatest hits of mullet rock.”

Dean grabbed the Metallica tape from Sam and stuck it in the radio. “House rules, Sammy – driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.” He tossed the case back into the box and started the car.

Devon just shook her head and smiled. She knew Dean was happy to have his brother along, and she loved to see Dean happy. She knew he had missed Sam a lot after he had left Kansas to go to Stanford.

“Sammy is a chubby twelve year old. It’s Sam, okay?”

Rock music began blaring out of the speakers. “Sorry, I can’t hear you. The music’s too loud,” Dean yelled, making Devon shake her head in amusement. He punched the gas and sped out onto the road, engine revving.

They drove another hour or so before they saw a sign that said “Jericho – 7.” Sam had been making calls from his cell phone for the last half hour. “All right, so there’s no one matching Dad at the hospital or the morgue. So that’s something, I guess.”

They then saw an old bridge with several police cars parked beside it. “Check it out,” Dean said. Sam and Devon craned their necks to look, and Dean pulled the Impala over to the side of the road to park. He opened the glovebox door and pulled out an old cigar box, flipping through a plethora of fake IDs. Sam looked at them in amazement. He handed Devon hers and grabbed his, then opened his door. “Let’s go,” he said, smirking at Sam.

The trio walked up to the officers working the scene and overheard one of them say to another one, “So, this kid, Troy… He’s dating your daughter, isn’t he? How’s Amy doing?” Devon saw Dean take in the entire conversation and stayed silent.

“You fellas had another one like this last month, didn’t you?” Dean asked.

The deputy looked at him. “And who are you?”

Dean and Devon both flashed their fake badges. “Federal Marshals,” Dean replied.

The man looked at them both surprised. “You three are a little young for Marshals, aren’t you?”

She wasn’t worried because she had seen Dean talk his way out of so much shit. The man just oozed confidence.

Dean laughed in response. “Thanks, that’s awfully kind of you. You did have another one just like this, correct?”

“Yeah, that’s right. About a mile up the road. There have been others before that.”

Sam stepped forward. “So this victim…you knew him?”

The deputy nodded. “A town like this, everybody knows everybody.”

“Any connection between the victims besides that they’re all men?”

“No. Not so far as we can tell.”

“So, what’s the theory?” Devon asked.

“Honestly? We don’t know. Serial murderer, kidnapping ring...”

“Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I’d expect out of you guys,” Dean said snarkily. He flinched when Sam stomped on his foot, and Devon had to bit her lip to keep from laughing. The deputy just stared at them in what she thought was either confusion or amazement.

“Thank you for your time, gentlemen,” Sam said politely and walked off, Dean following him and Devon practically jogging to keep up with their long-legged strides. Dean often forgot how short she was.

Dean caught up with Sam and smacked him up the back of the head.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Why’d you have to step on my foot?”

“Why do you have to talk to police like that?”

Devon shook her head in amusement. They were bickering like an old married couple.

Dean looked at him in surprise. “Come on. They don’t really know what’s going on,” he said, stepping in front of Sam. “We’re all alone on this. If we’re gonna find Dad, we’ve got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves.” Devon saw the suits heading toward them and cleared her throat, making Dean turn around.

“Can I help you?” the sheriff asked, two Feds with him.

“No, sir. We were just leaving,” Dean said. “Agent Mulder, Agent Scully,” he greeted as the two Feds walked past them, and he led them back to the Impala.

“Now what?” Devon asked, sliding back into the middle of the seat.

“Let’s go see if we can find this Amy that dated this guy, and see what she knows. That one guy said she was putting up posters downtown,” Dean replied, and he squealed off in the direction of town.

xXx

They parked the car and got out, walking down the tree-lined sidewalk. They had decided to take a different approach if they found the girlfriend.

“I’ll bet you that’s her,” Dean said, spotting a brunette hanging posters up in various business windows. “You must be Amy. Troy told us about you. We’re his uncles; this is my girlfriend,” he said to her. “I’m Dean. This is Sammy, and this is Devon.”

“He never mentioned you to me,” she said, turning to walk off.

Dean followed her and turned on the charm. “Well, that’s Troy, I guess. We’re not around much. We’re up in Modesto.”

“So, we’re looking for him, too, and we’re kind of asking around,” Sam said.

Another girl walked up to them. “Hey, are you okay?” she asked Amy.

“Yeah.”

“Do you mind if we ask you a couple of questions?” Sam asked in his soft voice, and Devon couldn’t imagine any female denying either of the Winchester brothers anything…ever. They were just too damn gorgeous and charming and sweet.

Amy nodded and headed into a coffee shop. They all grabbed a table, and she began to tell them what had happened. “I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, but he never did.”

“He didn’t say anything strange or out of the ordinary?” Sam asked.

She shook her head. “No, nothing I can remember.”

"Here's the deal, ladies,” Dean said. “The way Troy disappeared…something’s not right. So, if you’ve heard anything…”

Dean and Devon exchanged glances when the two girls looked at each other.

"What is it?” he asked.

“Well, it’s just… I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk.”

“What do they talk about?” Sam and Dean asked in unison, making Devon chuckle.

The friend shifted in her seat. “It’s kind of this local legend. This one girl, she got murdered out on Centennial, like, decades ago. Well, supposedly, she’s still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up… Well, they disappear forever.”

The three of them exchanged a knowing look and stood up. “Ladies, thank you for your time. We’ll be on the lookout.” Dean then put his hand on the small of Devon’s back and gently pushed her toward the door.

“Let’s go to the library. See what we can dig up about this murder out on Centennial,” Sam said.

“When in doubt, go to the library,” Dean joked, earning him a scowl from Sam. “Don’t look at me like that. That’s what Devon always says. I call her Hermione.”

She shrugged and climbed back into the car. “Well, it’s true,” she retorted, causing Sam to laugh.

They found the public library and went over to the computers. Dean pulled up the local paper’s website and began searching for articles on a murder on Centennial Highway, but nothing was coming up.

“Let me try,” Sam said impatiently, reaching for the keyboard.

Dean smacked his hand. “I got it.”

Sam pushed him, his chair wheeling away.

“Dude,” Dean complained, but Sam just began typing. “You’re such a control freak,” he complained, slapping him on the shoulder.

"Boys,” Devon scolded and wiggled her way onto Dean’s lap so she could see the computer screen. He wrapped his arms loosely around her waist, and they both leaned forward.

“So, angry spirits are born out of violent deaths, right?” Sam asked, typing. “Maybe it’s not murder.” He typed in “suicide” and an article popped up on the screen. They all leaned closer to read it. “This was 1981. Constance Welch, 24 years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river.”

“Does it say why she did it?” Devon asked, looking sadly at the picture of a beautiful woman with a big smile.

“Yeah. An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute. And when she comes back, they aren’t breathing. Both die. ‘Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn’t bear it,’ said husband, Joseph Welch.”

“That bridge look familiar to you?” Dean asked, pointing at the picture on the screen with a pen.

“That’s where we were earlier,” Devon said.

“I think we need to pay another visit,” Dean replied.

By the time they had left the library and gotten dinner, it was dark. Dean drove back to the old, shut down bridge and parked so his headlights were pointing down it. They walked to the middle of the bridge and stopped, looking over the edge.

“So, this is where Constance took the swan dive,” Dean said.

“So, you think Dad would have been here?” Sam asked, looking down into the dark water.

Dean shrugged. "Well, he's chasing the same story, and we’re chasing him.”

“Okay, so now what?” Sam asked.

Dean turned and began walking farther down the bridge. “Now we keep digging till we find him. It might take a while.”

Sam stopped walking. “Dean, I told you…I’ve gotta get back by –“

“Monday,” Dean interrupted. “Right. The interview. Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren’t you? You think you’re just gonna become some lawyer, marry your girl?”

Devon didn’t like where this conversation was headed, but she kept her mouth shut, biting her lip.

Sam shrugged. “Maybe. Why not?” he asked defensively.

“Does Jessica know the truth about you?” Dean asked. “I mean, does she know about the things you’ve done?”

“No, and she’s not ever going to know,” Sam retorted, taking a few steps toward his brother.

Dean nodded. “Well, that’s healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later, you’re gonna have to face up to who you really are.” He turned and began to walk away.

“And who is that?” Sam asked, beginning to get pissed off.

“One of us.”

He jogged to catch up to Dean and stepped in front of him. “No, I’m not like you. This is not going to be my life.”

Dean stared at him. “Well, you have a responsibility.”

“To Dad and his Crusade?” Sam asked in disbelief. “If it weren’t for pictures, I wouldn’t even know what Mom looks like. What difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom’s gone. And she isn’t coming back.”

Dean glared at him and suddenly pushed him up against the rail of the bridge, Sam’s shirt bunched in his fists. Devon ran over to them and put her hand on his arm, trying to calm him down. Dean took a deep breath. “Don’t talk about her like that.” They stared at each other for a moment before Dean gave him a small shove, dropped his hands, and stepped back. Devon took a deep breath and then gasped.

“Guys…” she whispered, staring at a woman in white standing on the bridge railing. The woman looked at them, and then she stepped off. They all ran over to where she had fallen from, but unsurprisingly, she was now nowhere to be seen.

“Where’d she go?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know,” Sam replied, their fight already forgotten for the moment. Suddenly, they heard the engine of the Impala turn over, and the headlights came on. They all stepped forward.

“What the…?” Dean muttered.

“Who’s driving your car?” Sam asked, and Dean held the keys up. Suddenly, the tires squealed, and the Impala began racing towards them on the bridge.

“Fuck,” Dean said before grabbing Devon’s hand and pulling her down the bridge at a full run.

Sam was right beside them. “Come on, guys. Let’s go! Go!”

They were running as fast as they could, but there was no way to outrun the car. When they got closer to the end of the bridge, they all dived over the rail. Dean had over calculated, though, and fell in a giant mud puddle while Sam and Devon had managed to hang on to the rail. The Impala screeched to a halt, and the motor stopped. Sam pulled himself up and then helped pull Devon back onto the bridge. They looked for Dean and saw him lying on his back on the riverbank.

“Hey, are you all right?”Devon yelled at him.

He looked up at them and made the “ok” signal with his hand. “I’m super,” he said flatly.

Sam and Devon looked at each other and giggled. Dean was covered head to toe with mud. He lay there for a moment, catching his breath, before walking back up onto the bridge. He popped the hood and checked the motor and belts before grabbing a towel from the trunk and trying to clean some of the mud off.

“Car all right?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, whatever she did to it, it seems all right now. That Constance chick…what a BITCH!” he shouted, making Devon chuckle again. No one fucked with Dean’s car and got away with it. They all leaned against the front end.

"Well, she doesn’t want us digging around, that’s for sure,” Devon said.

Sam sat beside his brother. “So, where’s the trail go from here, genius?”

Dean threw his hands up, aggravated at the whole situation and flicking mud off of his hands.

They all sat in silence for a moment before Sam started sniffing. “You smell like a toilet,” he said suddenly, looking at Dean.

“Fuck you,” Dean said, but Devon saw the small smile on his face. “Let's go.”

They drove to the only motel in town and walked into the office. Dean had wiped most of the mud off, but he was still filthy. He tossed the credit card down onto the sign-in book. “One room, please,” he said, wanting nothing more than a shower and clean clothes. Since Sam was only with them for the weekend, he figured they could all share a room. He could keep his hands off Devon for two nights.

The clerk looked at them. “You guys having a reunion or something?” he asked, looking at the card.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“That other guy, Bert Aframian. He came in and bought out a room for the whole month.”

The three of them looked at each other. “Um, yeah,” Devon said. “We’re supposed to let him know when we get here. What room is he in?” she asked sweetly. She could also turn on the charm when needed. Of course, Dean hated it when she flirted with younger guys, but she did it anyway. And she always got the information they needed.

“Room ten,” the clerk told her. He wrote them down in his roster and had Dean sign the credit card receipt and then handed them their key.

They immediately headed toward room ten. Sam went to work picking the lock, and in no time, had the door open. He and Devon stepped inside, and he pulled Dean in quickly, shutting the door. They all looked around in amazement. The walls were covered in maps and articles and photos. The desk was covered in books, and a half-eaten burger was on the nightstand. Dean turned a light on, and they noticed the circle of salt on the floor. This was John Winchester’s room, all right.

“I don’t think he’s been here for a couple of days, at least,” Dean said.

Sam had bent down and was running his fingers through the salt on the floor. “Salt. Cat’s eye shell. He was worried, trying to keep something from coming in.”

Dean looked at the papers hanging on the wall.

“What do you got here?” Sam asked.

“Centennial Highway victims. I don’t get it. I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities. There’s always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?” Dean said, continuing to look at the articles his father had collected.

Sam looked at the wall that had clippings and information about different entities, such as demons and witches. He stopped when he came to a label that said “woman in white.” The article about Constance Welch was taped underneath it. “Dad figured it out,” he said, amazement in his voice.

“What do you mean?” Devon asked, skimming through the books on the desk.

“He found the same article we did. Constance Welch. She’s a woman in white.”

Dean turned back to the wall of victims. “You sly dogs,” he said with a grin. “All right, so if we’re dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it.”

Sam stared at the wall. “She might have another weakness.”

“No, Dad would want to make sure. He’d dig her up. Does it say where she’s buried?”

“No, not that I can tell. If I were Dad, though, I’d go ask her husband. If he’s still alive.”

They all stared at the article again. “All right, why don’t you see if you can find an address? I’m gonna get cleaned up,” Dean said, heading toward their room.

Sam stopped him. “Hey, Dean, what I said earlier about Mom and Dad… I’m sorry.”

Dean held up his hand. “No chick flick moments.”

Sam laughed and nodded. “All right. Jerk.”

"Bitch,” Dean replied with a grin. He walked out of the door to go take a shower.

Devon had already headed toward their room, but Sam stopped when he spotted something on the dresser mirror. He looked closer and was surprised to see an old photo of his dad, Dean and himself when he was about eight years old, sitting on the Impala. He pulled it off and stuck it in his pocket before heading to their room. He was still super curious about why Devon was hunting with Dean. They had known her for years, and she and Dean had been dating before he left for school, but Dean had always said she would hunt over his dead body. She had said it was a long story, so he hadn’t pushed it. She was sitting at the desk when he walked in, Dean singing a KISS song very loudly in the shower.

“So, you and Dean still together, huh?” he said, sitting down on the end of the bed.

She smiled. “Yeah.”

He laughed. “It just surprises me. I didn’t think he could manage a long term relationship.”

Devon shrugged. “I’m not saying it’s been all sunshine and rainbows, but we manage to hold it together.”

“And you’re a hunter now?”

She laughed. “I don’t know about that. I do all right, but I wouldn’t want to do it without Dean. He’s saved my ass too many times to count.”

He smiled. “Yeah, mine, too.” His phone chimed at that point to let him know he had a voicemail. He pressed the buttons and heard Jessica’s voice.

At that moment, though, Dean came out of the bathroom. “Hey, I’m starving. I’m gonna grab a little something to eat at that diner down the street. You want anything?” he asked Sam, but he shook his head. “Aframian’s buying! I’ll meet you at the car, babe.”

She nodded and dug through her purse, looking for her makeup bag. She knew she looked like shit.

Dean had put his dad's leather jacket on that he had taken from his room and started across the parking lot when he saw a sheriff’s car in front of the motel office. He then saw the clerk point directly at him. He turned and quickly dug his phone out of his pocket. “Dude, five-oh. Take off,” he said as soon as Sam answered the phone.

“What about you?” Sam asked, standing up quickly and getting Devon’s attention.

“Uh, they kind of spotted me. Go find Dad,” he said then hung up and turned to face the two deputies that were quickly walking toward him. “Problem, officers?” he asked innocently.

“Where are your partners?” the deputy from earlier asked.

Dean laughed. “Partners? What…what partners?”

The deputy pointed toward their room, and the other officer headed that way. Dean hoped Sam and Devon had gotten out of the back window.

“So… Fake U.S. Marshal, fake credit cards. You got anything that’s real?”

“My boobs,” Dean said and then gave him a big smile. However, the deputy didn’t find it funny and pushed him down on the hood of his cruiser, snapping handcuffs on him and reading him his rights. He knew he would be going to the sheriff’s station next, but he wasn’t worried. He didn’t have anything on him that told his true identity, and he could get out of anything. He just had to bide his time and wait for the opportune moment.

Sam had pushed Devon into the bathroom and was pushing her out of the window while the deputy was banging on the door. Luckily, she had a set of keys to the Impala in her purse, so they would come back later and get the car once it was clear.

xXx

After he placed a false 911 call about shots fired to give Dean a chance to escape, Sam had dropped Devon off at the library while he went to talk to Mr. Welch. She had wanted to do more research on the woman in white phenomenon and knew Mr. Welch would be more likely to talk to Sam if he was by himself. He had a calming effect on people and could get them to open up easily. He had talked with the husband and was now heading to the old Welch homestead when his phone rang. Dean’s voice came over the line when he answered it.

“Fake 911 phone call, Sammy? I don’t know. That’s pretty illegal. Is Devon with you?”

Sam smiled. “You’re welcome. And no, I dropped her at the library.”

“Listen, we gotta talk,” Dean said.

“Tell me about it,” Sam said. “So, the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. She’s buried behind her old house.”

“Sammy, would you shut up for a second?” Dean was already walking toward the public library.

Sam continued. “I can’t figure out why he hasn’t destroyed the corpse yet.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s gone. Dad left Jericho.”

“What? How do you know?” Sam asked.

Dean paused for a moment. “I’ve got his journal.”

“He doesn’t go anywhere without that,” Sam replied.

“Well, he did this time,” Dean retorted.

“What’s it say?”

"Same old ex-Marine shit when he wants to let us know where he’s going.”

“Coordinates. Where to?” Sam asked.

“I’m not sure yet.”

Sam paused. “Dean, what the hell is going on?”

Suddenly, Sam slammed on the brakes. “Whoa!” he shouted. A woman in a white dress was suddenly standing in the road in front of him. He ran right through her, tires screeching.

“Sam! Sam!” Dean yelled over the phone. He was jogging now. He needed to get Devon and find a car they could steal easily to get to Sam.

Sam sat and tried to catch his breath when he noticed the woman was now sitting in the backseat. “Take me home,” she demanded.

He stared at her in the rearview mirror.

“Take me home,” she demanded again.

“No,” he replied. Suddenly, the locks all clicked shut, and Sam couldn’t pull his up. While he was trying to unlock the doors, the accelerator depressed, and the car shot forward, the engine revving. He was heading down the highway but had no control. Before he knew it, they were pulling up to the old house where Constance had murdered her children. “Don’t do this,” he said.

She looked up at the house sadly. “I can never go home.”

“You’re scared to go home.” He looked in the backseat, but she was gone. Suddenly, she was in the seat next to him and had straddled him, pushing him back. He groaned at the pain.

“Hold me,” she said softly, leaning over him. “I’m so cold.” She stared at him, her eyes hard.

“You can’t kill me,” he said. “I’m not unfaithful. I’ve never been.”

She leaned down and whispered in his ear, “You will be.”She then started kissing him, and he made sure that he didn’t kiss her back, instead focusing on reaching the keys in the ignition. She then sat up and disappeared. He screamed as he suddenly felt as if someone was stabbing him in the chest with a white hot poker. He opened his sweatshirt up and saw five holes burned in his t-shirt, and Constance appeared to him, pressing her hand into his chest. He screamed in pain, but she wouldn’t stop.

He was shocked when gunshots sounded, and the driver’s side window exploded. Dean ran up to the car, his gun drawn, Devon hot on his heels. Constance disappeared, and Sam sat up, starting the engine. “I’m taking you home,” he muttered, flooring the gas and throwing gravel, heading straight toward the house.

Devon watched Dean’s face as he watched Sam drive his precious car directly through the wall and into the house. “Fuck,” he muttered, running after Sam. They both ran into the house. “Sam! You okay?”

“I think,” came Sam’s voice.

Dean pulled the passenger door open. “Can you move?”

“Yeah, help me.”

Dean pulled on Sam and helped get him out of the car. Devon watched as Constance bent down and picked up a framed photo, looking at it in shock. The three of them watched her as she looked up at them and threw the photo down, then as a large dresser came rushing at them. Dean pushed Devon out of the way before it slammed into him and Sam, pinning them against the car.

The electricity started to crackle, and the lights flickered on. Devon was trying to pull the dresser as the boys pushed, but Constance had too tight a hold on it. Suddenly, water started pouring down the stairs. They saw the outlines of two small children start walking down as Constance moved toward the stairs.

“You’ve come home to us, Mommy,” they said in unison. They were suddenly downstairs, and they looked at their mother for a moment before they hugged onto her. She let out a bloodcurdling scream, and then all three of them disappeared into a puddle in the floor. The hold she had on the dresser was released, and the boys pushed it away from them.

Devon hugged Dean tightly, slightly shaking from what she had just seen. She had not grown up hunting, and she was still getting accustomed to the supernatural.

“So, this is where she drowned her kids,” Dean said, looking at the puddle of water they had disappeared into.

Sam nodded. “That’s why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them.”

“You found her weak spot,” Dean said proudly. “Nice work, Sammy.” He slapped him on the shoulder, making Sam groan in pain.

“Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking, shooting Casper in the face, you freak?” he asked with a laugh.

Dean turned and pointed at him. “Hey, saved your ass. I’ll tell you another thing. If you fucked up my car, I’ll kill you.”

Sam laughed, and they both stood at the front of the Impala to push while Devon climbed behind the wheel to steer. Once they were outside, Dean assessed his car and found only minor cosmetic damage, and they headed back toward Palo Alto. Sam had John’s journal open to the page with the coordinates, a map spread open in his lap while Devon held the flashlight. “Okay, so here’s where Dad went. It’s called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado.”

Dean nodded. “Sounds charming. How far?”

“About 600 miles,” Sam said.

“If we shag ass, we can make it by morning,” Dean said, looking over at him.

Sam looked at him in surprise. “Dean, um…”

Dean looked at him for a minute, knowing what Sam was trying not to say. “You're not going,” he said flatly.

“The interview’s in ten hours. I gotta be there.”

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I’ll take you home,” he said, looking out of the window. Devon knew he was pissed – but mostly hurt – that Sam didn’t want to go with them. She turned the flashlight off and leaned up against Dean’s shoulder to try to get some sleep. He slung his arm around her, and she drifted off, the hum of the tires and Dean’s warmth and smell lulling her to sleep.

xXx

Devon awoke when Dean pulled the car up in front of Sam’s apartment. Sam grabbed his bag and stepped out onto the sidewalk, slamming the door behind him.

“You’ll call me if you find him?” he asked. “Maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, all right.” He knew that Sam had no intention of meeting up with them later.

“Bye, Sam. Good luck with your interview,” Devon said to him, grimacing when he ruffled her hair like a little kid.

“Thanks. See you, Dev,” he called, and he walked away.

“Sam!” Dean yelled, making him stop and turn. “You know, we made a hell of a team back there, the three of us.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

Dean put the Impala in gear and pulled away silently. Devon wished she could say something to make him feel better, but she knew he felt like shit. His only brother had once again chosen something else over him after he had spent his entire life taking care of Sam. She simply reached over and squeezed his thigh. He didn’t look at her but reached down and covered her hand with his.

xXx

Sam walked into the apartment and called out for Jess. It was very early in the morning, but she was always up before dawn, so he was surprised that all of the lights were still off. “Jess! You home?” He grabbed a cookie off of the counter and chewed as he walked through the rooms, looking for her. She wasn’t there, so he figured she had left early to go to the gym. He flopped back onto the bed, a smile on his face. Hunting with Dean and Devon that weekend hadn’t been so bad. His dad had always been so controlling…so critical…but Dean was a lot different from John in that he was laid back and loved to joke around. Sam had actually had fun.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, just enjoying his life. Suddenly, he felt something wet drop on his forehead. He opened his eyes and gasped, horrified. Jessica…his Jessica…was on the ceiling, blood seeping from her abdomen, hair splayed out.

"No!” he screamed, but before he could do anything, flames erupted around her.

Dean kicked the back door in and ran inside. He had had a bad feeling about leaving, and they had seen the fire through the window. “Sam!” he yelled.

“Jess!” Sam screamed, having to shield his face from the heat of the flames that were quickly consuming her body. The bedroom was already blazing.

Dean ran into the bedroom, shocked at what he saw. He grabbed Sam and pulled him toward the door, but Sam fought against him, trying to get to Jessica. Dean used his body to physically push Sam out of the room and outside. Devon was standing on the sidewalk and had already called 911.

Dean and Devon stood with a group of bystanders while Sam was checked out by the paramedics. They had wanted to take him to the ER for smoke inhalation and mild burns on his face, but he had refused. Dean noticed him at the trunk of the Impala, so he pulled Devon over to the car. Sam was loading a sawed off shotgun. They both looked at him silently, his eyes red from both smoke and tears.

He sighed and tossed the gun into the trunk. “We got work to do.”

 


	2. Wendigo

A/N: Warning! There be smut ahead in this chapter. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. You’ve been warned. I’ll also preface this by saying that this is the first smut I’ve written in a long time, so I hope it’s not too much or too boring. I would appreciate any feedback!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Supernatural but I do have a bunch of episodes saved on my DVR.

 

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Sam sat up with a start, gasping. He looked around trying to reorient himself and realized he was in the Impala with Dean and Devon – he wasn’t in Palo Alto. They were on their way to Blackwater Ridge in Lost Creek, Colorado, and they were hoping John was going to meet them there since he had sent them the coordinates in the first place.

Dean looked over at his little brother. “You okay?” he asked, turning his eyes back to the road. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

Devon placed her hand on his arm. “Did you have another nightmare?” she asked softly. She had felt him jerk awake and knew he had been dreaming about Jessica again. 

Sam just cleared his throat and rubbed at his eyes, not answering her. He had just had a horrible dream that Jessica had reached up out of her grave and grabbed him, and it had terrified him. But he didn’t want them to know about it. 

“Wanna drive for a while?” Dean offered. 

Sam chuckled and looked at his brother. “In your whole life, you never once asked me that.” 

Dean shrugged. “Just thought you might want to. Never mind.” 

“Look, man, you’re worried about me. I get it, and thank you. But I’m perfectly okay.” 

Dean chewed on his lower lip in thought. “Mm-hmm,” he replied, not buying it for one second. 

"All right,” Sam said, clearing his throat. “Where are we?” 

“We are just outside of Grand Junction.” 

Sam looked at the map that had a big red X on it at the coordinates of 35-111 that John had left for Dean in his journal and sighed. “You know what? Maybe we shouldn’t have left Stanford so soon.” 

Devon felt so bad for Sam. Before she and Dean had come barging back into his life, he had been happy. He had been a budding law student and had been with the girl of his dreams. Then they showed up and dragged him back into the world of the supernatural, and now, Jessica was dead. She knew Sam blamed himself. She squeezed his arm in support again and stayed silent. 

“Sam, we dug around there for a damn week. We came up with nothing,” Dean reminded him. “If you want to find the thing that killed Jessica…” 

“Gotta find Dad first,” Sam finished. 

Dean sighed. “Dad disappearing and this thing showing up again after twenty years? It’s no coincidence. Dad will have answers. He’ll know what to do.” 

Sam continued to study the map. “It’s weird, guys. These coordinates he left us, this Blackwater Ridge…” he trailed off. 

“What about it?” Devon asked, looking at the map and wondering what Sam was seeing that she wasn’t. 

“There’s nothing there. It’s just woods.” He laid the map down, confused. “Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?” 

Dean shrugged, and they continued down the highway, forests of trees flashing past the windows on both sides. Devon thought it was very pretty but also very dense. Whatever was hiding out there certainly had good cover. 

After another hour, he turned onto a small road with a sign that said “Welcome to Lost Creek Colorado National Forest.” They stopped at the ranger station and walked in to see if they could speak to someone who was familiar with the area. 

“So, Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote,” Sam said, looking at a large relief map in the station. “It’s cut off by these canyons here. Rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place…” 

Dean and Devon were looking at some information and pictures on the wall. “Dude, check out the size of this friggin’ bear,” Dean said. 

Sam joined them and looked at the photo. “And a dozen or more grizzlies in the area. It’s no nature hike, that’s for sure.” 

“You all aren’t planning to go out near Blackwater Ridge, by any chance?” a ranger asked them. 

They all turned to look at him. “Oh, no, sir,” Sam said with an innocent smile. “We’re environmental study majors from U.C. Boulder. Just working on a paper.” 

Dean held a fist up. “Recycle, man!” he said with a chuckle and making Devon roll her eyes. 

“Bull,” the ranger replied. “You're friends with that Hailey girl, right?” 

Dean hesitated a second. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, we are, Ranger…Wilkinson.” 

“Well, I will tell you exactly what I told her. Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn’t be back from Blackwater until the 24th. So, it’s not exactly a missing persons now, is it? Tell that girl to quit worrying. I’m sure her brother’s just fine.” 

“We will,” Dean said. “Well, that Hailey girl’s quite a pistol, huh?” 

Ranger Wilkinson raised his coffee cup in agreement. “That is putting it mildly.” 

Dean grinned, turning on the charm. “Actually, you know what would help is if I could show her a copy of that backcountry permit. You know, so she could see her brother’s return date.” 

She could see that he was actually considering it, and Devon wondered just how much this Hailey girl had been bothering Ranger Wilkinson. 

Finally, he nodded and went behind the desk to copy a paper. “Here you go. Hopefully you can get her to simmer down.” 

“Thanks,” Dean said with a smile. “We’ll take care of it.” 

Devon and Sam followed him back out to the Impala. “Are you cruising for a hook-up or something?” Sam asked him grumpily, earning him a scowl from Devon. 

“What the hell are you talking about, Sam?” Dean asked, confused. 

“The coordinates point to Blackwater Ridge. So, what are we waiting for? Let’s just go find Dad. I mean, why even talk to this girl?” he asked, frustrated. 

Dean stopped beside his door and looked at his brother. “I don’t know. Maybe we should know what we’re walking into before we actually walk into it.” 

“What?” Sam asked, spreading his arms in confusion. 

“Since when are you all ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ anyway?” 

Sam looked at him for a moment. “Since now.” He opened his door and got in, slamming it a little too hard. He didn’t want to mess with these people. He wanted to find his dad so they could hunt the thing that killed Jessica. He didn’t want to wait. 

“Oh, really?” Dean said with a surprised smile before opening his door and letting Devon slide in ahead of him. He wanted to go talk to this Hailey and see what all she knew before he went traipsing into the woods. 

XXX 

They knocked on the door of a small house, and it was immediately opened by a petite brunette woman. “You must be Hailey Collins. I’m Dean, this is Sam and Devon. We’re, uh, rangers with the Park Service. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over. We wanted to ask you some questions about your brother, Tommy.” 

She looked at them for a moment. “Let me see some I.D.” 

Dean pulled out his fake Park Services ID he had made earlier at Kinkos. “There you go.” 

"Come on in," she said finally and opened the door for them. She saw the Impala parked at the curb. “That yours?” 

“Yeah,” Dean said proudly. 

“Nice car.” She led them into the kitchen where a young boy was sitting at the table about to eat dinner. 

Sam spoke first. “So, if Tommy’s not due back for a while, how do you know something’s wrong?” 

She carried two large serving bowls out from the kitchen and set them in the center of the table. “He checks in every day by cell. He emails photos, stupid little videos, but we haven’t heard anything in over three days now.” 

“Well, maybe he can’t get cell reception,” Sam suggested. 

She shook her head. “He’s got a satellite phone, too.” She turned and walked back into the kitchen. 

“Could it be he’s just having fun and forgot to check in?” Dean asked. 

“He wouldn’t do that,” the young boy said. Dean looked at him in surprise. 

Hailey walked back in with more food. “Our parents are gone. It’s just my two brothers and me. We all keep pretty close tabs on each other.” 

“Can we see the pictures he sent you?” Devon asked. 

She nodded and led them to a computer on a desk in the corner. She clicked on her email and pulled the photos up. “That’s Tommy,” she said, a picture of a dark haired man with a big smile sitting in a tent on her computer screen. “This is his last message.” She played a short video for them. 

Tommy was on the screen, grinning at the camera. “Hey, Hailey. Day six. We’re still out near Blackwater Ridge. We’re fine, keeping safe, so don’t worry, okay? Talk to you tomorrow.” 

Devon knew that Sam had seen the same thing she had – a shadow darting outside of the tent behind Tommy, so fast it seemed as if her eyes were playing tricks on her. 

“We’ll find your brother,” Dean assured her. “We’re heading out to Blackwater Ridge first thing.” 

She walked past him. “Then maybe I’ll see you there.” The three of them exchanged glances. “Look, I can’t sit around here anymore, so I hired a guide. I’m heading out in the morning, and I’m gonna find Tommy myself.” 

Dean looked at her for a moment. “I think I know how you feel.” 

“Hey, you mind forwarding these to me?” Sam asked in that soft, convincing voice. Devon knew then he had definitely seen it. 

“Sure,” she said, and he gave her his email address. 

They thanked her for her cooperation and promised that they would do everything they could to find her brother, and then left her and her younger brother to eat their dinner. Dean found the first dive bar that sold food and pulled into the parking lot. They entered and found a table. 

"So, Blackwater Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic – local campers mostly – but still, this past April, two hikers went missing out there. They were never found,” Sam said, flipping through his notes he had made on the disappearances. 

Dean scowled. “Any before that?” 

"Yeah. In 1982, eight different people all vanished in the same year. Authorities said it was a grizzly attack.” Sam pulled out a photocopy of the article on the front page of The Lost Creek Gazette from 1982 he had printed out before they had left Stanford and handed it to Dean. “And again in 1959, and again, before that, in 1936… Every twenty-three years, just like clockwork. Okay, watch this. Here’s the clincher. ” He opened his laptop. “I downloaded that guy Tommy’s video to the laptop. Check this out.” He clicked a few keys, and the video played. 

Dean and Devon stared at the screen, but she already knew what Sam was getting at. 

“Do it again,” Dean said, looking at the video intently. 

Sam slowed the video down and clicked through it frame by frame, and they all watched as a large shadow darted behind Tommy outside of the tent. “That’s three frames. It's a fraction of second,” Sam said. “Whatever that thing is, it can move.” 

Dean looked at it for a moment longer before smacking Sam on the shoulder. “I told you something weird was going on,” he gloated. 

"Yeah, I got one more thing,” Sam replied. “In ’59, one camper survived the supposed grizzly attack. Just a kid – barely crawled out of the woods alive.” 

"You got a name?" Devon asked him. 

Sam nodded. “Of course.” 

Dean grinned as a tray loaded with food was brought to their table. He rubbed his hands together in glee at the greasy burger and fries that was set down in front of him. “We’ll go talk to him right after we eat. Can’t let this beauty go to waste.” 

Sam shook his head. “You know that’s about a million grams of cholesterol, right?” 

He nodded, already chewing a huge bite. “Well, I can’t live on rabbit food,” he retorted, pointing a french fry at Devon’s salad. “Besides, a little grease never hurt anyone.” 

Sam scoffed. “Uh, yeah, it has. People drop dead from heart attacks all the time.” 

Dean took another big bite and closed his eyes in delight. He couldn’t care less about Sam’s preaching. 

Sam just shook his head and took a bite of his grilled chicken sandwich. Maybe one day, he could get Dean to change his eating habits. 

XXX 

They entered a small, ramshackle apartment building and knocked on door 12A. It was answered by an elderly man who appeared as if he had had a rough life. 

“Thomas Shaw?” Dean asked. 

The man nodded. 

Dean gestured to Sam and Devon. “Hi, I’m Dean. This is Sam and Devon. We’re with the Park Service and would like to ask you a few questions about the attack you survived when you were a kid.” 

Mr. Shaw looked at them for a moment and then nodded silently. “Come in,” he finally said. Devon thought he had an air of sadness around him and figured it was caused from what he was about to tell them. 

They followed him into a dimly lit living room. 

“Look, Ranger, I don’t know why you’re asking me about this,” he finally said. “It’s public record. I was a kid. My parents got mauled by a –“ 

“Grizzly?” Sam interrupted him. “That’s what attacked them?” 

Mr. Shaw took a drag from his cigarette. He stood silent for a moment before he nodded his head. 

“The other people that went missing that year… Those bear attacks, too?” Dean asked, stepping a little closer. “What about all the people that went missing this year? Same thing?” 

Devon put her hand on his arm, trying to tell him to cool it. She knew this man had been traumatized from what he had seen as a kid, and then, very likely, no one had believed him, so he wasn’t going to be the most forthcoming with information on what he had really seen. 

Dean nodded slightly at her. “If we knew what we were dealing with, we might be able to stop it,” he said, his tone kinder. 

“I seriously doubt that,” Mr. Shaw replied, continuing to smoke, the lit tip glowing dimly in the dark shadow he was standing in. “Anyways, I don’t see the difference it would make. You wouldn’t believe me. Nobody ever did,” he said quietly, sitting down in a worn recliner. 

Sam stepped a little closer and sat down on the couch opposite him. “Mr. Shaw…what did you see?” he asked softly. 

Shaw sighed and looked at the three of them for a moment before speaking. “Nothing. It moved too fast to see. It hid too well. I heard it, though. A roar...like no man or animal I ever heard.” 

“It came at night?” Sam asked. Shaw nodded. “It got inside your tent?” 

Shaw looked at him. “It got inside our cabin. I was sleeping in front of the fireplace when it came in. It didn’t smash a window or break the door – it unlocked it. Do you know of a bear that could do something like that? I didn’t even wake up until I heard my parents screaming.” 

“It killed them?” Devon asked softly. 

“Dragged them off into the night,” he replied sadly. “Why it left me alive... I’ve been asking myself that ever since. It did leave me this, though.” He pulled his shirt away from his neck to reveal four huge scars that had at one time been large gashes. The three of them gasped and stared. “There’s something evil in those woods. It was some sort of demon.” 

Devon shivered. She felt Dean squeeze her shoulders, and she leaned back into him a bit. She was beginning to feel fear creep down her spine at the thought of what this thing could be. 

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Shaw,” Sam said, and they left him to his thoughts. 

“Spirits and demons don’t have to unlock doors if they want inside. They just go through the walls,” Dean said as they walked down the dimly lit hallway. 

Sam nodded. “So, it’s probably something else – something corporeal.” 

Dean scowled at him. “’Corporeal?’ Excuse me, Professor,” he said sarcastically. 

“Shut up,” Sam replied. “So, what do you think?” 

Dean spread his hands. “The claws, the speed that it moves…it could be a skinwalker, maybe a black dog. Whatever we’re talking about, we’re talking about a creature, and it’s corporeal, which means we can kill it.” He walked away from them and outside, heading to the trunk of the Impala. He opened the lid and propped the false bottom up before grabbing an army green duffel bag. He started shoving shotguns and shells in it. 

“We cannot let that Hailey girl go out there,” Sam said, joining him and adding his own assortment to the mix. 

“And what’re we gonna tell her? She can’t go into the woods because of a big, scary monster?” Dean asked. 

Sam nodded. “Yeah.” 

Dean stopped and looked at him. “Her brother’s missing, Sam. She’s not just gonna sit this out. No, we go with her and protect her, and we keep our eyes peeled for our fuzzy predator friend.” He zipped the bag up and went to toss it into the backseat. 

“So, finding Dad’s not enough?” Sam asked, slamming the trunk hard. “Now we gotta babysit, too? What?” he asked when Dean just stared at him, holding the duffel bag in his hand.

“Nothing,” Dean said carelessly and threw the bag at Sam before walking away from him. He pushed Devon into the front seat and slid in beside her. He loved his brother, but he needed some time away from him before their tempers exploded. 

Sam got into the passenger seat and slammed his door, fuming. “I want my own room tonight,” he finally said when Dean pulled into the motel parking lot. 

“Fine with me,” he replied and slammed his door when he walked into the motel office. He paid for two rooms with his fake credit card and tossed the key to Sam when he got back into the car. He was silent as he drove to park in front of their rooms. He had gotten rooms next to each other. Even though he was pissed at Sam, he wasn’t stupid. He knew they needed to be available to back each other up immediately, if necessary. 

He grabbed his and Devon’s duffel bags out of the backseat and unlocked the door to their room. “We’ll meet back here at seven,” he told Sam, who just nodded and entered his room, slamming the door. “Just give him time to calm down,” he told Devon as he pushed the door open. He flipped on the lights and did a quick reconnaissance of the room. Satisfied it harbored no monsters, he stepped in, and Devon followed him, shutting the door and locking it. 

“God, I can’t wait to take a long, hot shower and stretch out,” she said, flopping back onto the closest bed and staring at the old popcorn ceiling. 

Dean tossed their bags onto the small table in the corner and turned on the TV. “Do you think I’m wrong for wanting to go and keep Hailey from getting eaten by the monster in the woods?” he asked. 

She turned on her side and propped her head in her hand. “No, of course not.” 

He looked at her. “Really? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?” 

“Dean, Sam’s just frustrated because he was hoping your dad would be here, and so far, we haven’t seen anything to say he’s even been here at all. He’s worried.” She stood up and began rummaging through her bag, pulling out clean pajamas and toiletry items. 

“I know,” he sighed. “I just hate it that we’ve been together two weeks and we’re already fighting.” 

“You’re brothers,” she said simply and headed into the bathroom. 

She took a shower and brushed her teeth, drying her hair somewhat with the old hairdryer that was screwed to the wall in the bathroom. She padded into the room and then stretched out on the bed Dean had already messed up, sighing as her muscles stretched. It felt good to spread out after being cramped up in the Impala for two days. She lay there and stared at the TV while Dean took a shower. She was just dozing off when she felt the bed shift as he laid down beside her. 

“You awake?” he whispered, running his fingers up her back and making her shiver. 

“Mmm,” she replied, sighing when he pulled her hair out of the way and pressed his lips to the nape of her neck. 

Dean scooted closer to her, spooning her body with his as his fingers stroked the smooth skin under her shirt, his mouth moving to her ear. He grinned when she moaned slightly. “You awake now?” 

Devon rolled over and looked up at him in the dim light. God, he was gorgeous. Her stomach clinched at the thought, and she wondered how she had gotten so lucky. “I’m awake now,” she answered with a slight grin. 

He smiled at her and pressed his lips to hers, his hands moving to her waist. She reached up and cupped her hand around the back of his neck, holding his face to hers. He licked her lips with his tongue, and she immediately opened her mouth, inviting him to explore as he’d done so many times before. He reached his hand up and threaded his fingers through her mahogany curls, holding her head in place. He pulled back slightly and nibbled on her lower lip, making her groan as he tugged at her sensitive skin. 

“Dean…” she breathed, needing more skin to skin contact. He sat back and pulled her tank top up and over her head, her nipples pebbling in the cool air of the room. 

He gave her his cocky grin and bent down,his mouth closing over her breast. She groaned again, her hands coming up and running through his hair. God, that hair did something to her. Along with those perfect teeth and full lips… And those gorgeous green eyes... He was nibbling and sucking and kissing her sensitive skin, and it had been so long since they had been together that she felt like she would explode. 

He pulled away with a smirk. “Not yet, cupcake. I’m gonna feel you come around me,” he said in a low voice, and she felt her panties get wetter. 

There went another pair of clean underwear. 

She began pushing at his pajama pants, trying to free his erection. “Then hurry up and fuck me,” she said, raising her hips so he could pull her sleep shorts off. 

He chuckled and shook his head. “Huh uh. Not yet. First, I’m gonna make you beg…” He stood up and pushed his pants and underwear down, stepping out of them and standing before her in all his glory. 

She crawled down to the end of the bed and took him in her hands, her mouth closing around him. 

Dean gripped the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. “Fuck, Dev…” he moaned. 

She grinned around him and looked up at him through her eyelashes. He was beautiful – in a very masculine way. He had his head thrown back, lips parted, those perfect teeth peeking out. His eyes were clenched shut, eyebrows drawn together. She felt him unconsciously pushing at her head while he began to fuck her mouth. When she knew he was getting close, she pulled away. “Who’s gonna make who beg?” she teased. 

He opened his eyes at the sudden loss and growled at her. She squealed and fell back on the bed, giggling. He knelt on the bed and slowly crawled up her body until he was laying flush against her, his cock rubbing against her and making her moan. 

“Dean, please…” she said softly, trying to grind against him. 

He smirked at her. “Told you I’d make you beg.” He pecked her on the lips and smiled sweetly at her. 

She arched her back up, trying to get him to slide inside of her, but he pulled away. “Fuck you, Winchester,” she said with a scowl. 

Dean cocked an eyebrow at her. “Attitude like that and you won’t get to,” he teased her. 

Devon looked up at him, her gray eyes wide, and she pouted. “Dean…” 

He dropped down and kissed her long and hard and slid inside of her. She moaned as he filled her, and he groaned loudly as her body adjusted around him and pulled him in even deeper until he was seated to the hilt. “Fuck,” he muttered. He sat back on his heels and pulled her ass into his lap, and she wrapped her legs around his lower back. Dean gripped her thighs in his hands and began pounding into her, giving her exactly what he knew she needed. Devon knew she wasn’t going to last long. They hadn’t been together since before they broke into Sam and Jessica’s apartment…and Dean felt so fucking good. 

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, gripping her thighs harder. She figured she would have bruises the next morning, but she didn’t care. “I’m not…gonna…last…” he gasped out. 

She couldn’t answer him and instead came with a shudder, feeling the knot that had been tightening in her stomach explode and sending tingles down to her toes and fingers. Dean followed immediately, his arms tightening and his fingers digging into her flesh. He collapsed on top of her, both of them breathing hard. 

“Did…I…hurt…you?” he asked between gasps, his face buried in her neck. 

She shook her head. “No,” she breathed, her head still spinning, her legs limp. She kept her hands buried in his hair, knowing that if she let go, her arms would collapse as her entire body felt like Jell-O. 

After several minutes, Dean flopped over beside her, one arm thrown over his eyes. “Damn, I needed that,” he said before peeking at her. 

Devon grinned up at the ceiling. “Me, too. I love Sam and all, but he’s really cramping our style.” 

He chuckled. “Yeah, I know. Now that he’s on the road with us full time, we’ll just have to make it a point to get our own room more often.” 

She nodded and curled up against his side. Sleep was washing over her in warm waves, and it wasn’t more than a few minutes before her eyes slid shut, and she was sound asleep. 

XXX 

The next morning dawned bright and early, and the three of them met at the Impala at seven, as planned. A good night’s sleep had done them all good, and they pretended as if the fight between Sam and Dean had never happened. They stopped at a small diner and ate breakfast before heading to the trailhead to begin their hike into Blackwater Ridge. 

They pulled up and saw Hailey, her younger brother, Ben, and another man standing there, backpacks on. The older man was holding what looked like a hunting rifle. She stared at them, shaking her head, her hands on her hips. 

“You guys got room for three more?” Dean asked pleasantly. 

She looked at him surprised. “Wait… You wanna come with us?” 

“Who are these guys?” the man asked. 

She scoffed. “Apparently, this is all the park service could muster up.” 

He looked at them in disbelief. “You’re rangers?” 

Dean smirked. “That’s right.” 

"And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?” Hailey asked sarcastically. 

Sam had grabbed the duffle bag, and Devon followed him silently. She really wished she had some hiking boots, but the ones she had would just have to suffice. 

Dean looked at her and scoffed. “Well, sweetheart, I don’t do shorts.” He walked past her to join Devon and Sam. 

“Oh, you think this is funny?” the man asked him. “It’s dangerous backcountry out there. Her brother might be hurt.” 

Dean looked at both Devon and Sam before turning back and smirking at him. “Believe me, I know how dangerous it can be. We just want to help them find their brother, that’s all.” 

They all stared at each other for a moment before following the guide, who they learned was named Roy, into the woods. 

They had been hiking a little over half an hour before Dean spoke. “Roy, you said you did a little hunting.” 

"Yeah, more than a little.” 

“What kind of furry critters do you hunt?” Dean asked. 

Roy stopped and looked around. “Mostly buck. Sometimes bear.” 

“Tell me, uh, Bambi or Yogi ever hunt you back?” Dean asked with a smirk. 

Roy grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him. Everyone just stopped and stared. 

Dean looked at him, his expression easy, but Devon knew he was on guard. “What are you doing, Roy?” 

Roy picked up a stick and poked it right where Dean would have stepped. They all jumped when an iron bear trap snapped shut, breaking the stick easily. “You should watch where you’re stepping…ranger.” 

Dean chuckled and looked back at Sam and Devon. “It’s a bear trap.” He continued walking, following Roy. Hailey ran to catch up to Dean, and Sam motioned for Devon to walk ahead of him so that he was bringing up the rear. 

“You didn’t pack any provisions. You guys are carrying a duffel bag,” Hailey said accusingly to Dean. “You’re not rangers, so who the hell are you?” she asked, grabbing his arm so he would stop and turn around. 

He paused and made eye contact with Sam before nodding so that they would go ahead and follow Roy. He sighed. “Sam and I are brothers. Devon’s my girlfriend. And we’re looking for our father. He might be here; we don’t know. I just figured that you and me…we’re in the same boat.” 

She paused. “Why didn’t you just tell me that from the start?” 

“I’m telling you now,” he said matter-of-factly. “So, we okay?” 

Hailey stared at him for a moment. “Yeah, okay,” she finally said. 

“And what do you mean, I didn’t pack provisions?” Dean asked, pulling out a large half-eaten bag of peanut M&Ms. He dug his hand into the bag and grinned at her before turning and walking to catch up with the group. 

After several more hours of hiking, Roy finally spoke. “This is it – Blackwater Ridge.” 

“What coordinates are we at?” Sam asked. 

Roy pulled out his GPS. “Thirty-five and minus 111.” 

Sam and Dean looked around, seeing nothing but trees, ferns and brush. 

“You hear that?” Devon asked quietly, coming to stand beside them. The eerie silence gave her the chills. 

Sam sighed. “Yeah. Not even crickets.” 

"I'm gonna go take a look around," Roy said. 

The three of them turned toward him. “You shouldn’t go off by yourself,” Sam said. 

Roy chuckled. “That’s sweet,” he said sarcastically. “Don’t worry about me.” He walked off. 

“All right, everybody stays together,” Dean directed. “Let’s go.” They all walked on a little further. 

After a few minutes, Roy shouted, “Hailey! Over here!” 

They all ran toward his voice and found a campsite that had been destroyed. A large tent had been ripped to shreds and had blood splattered all over it, and multiple items were strewn around on the ground broken and trampled.

Hailey stopped and stared. “Oh, my god,” she said softly. 

“Looks like a grizzly,” Roy said. 

“Tommy?” she called out. “Tommy!” 

Sam shushed her. 

“Why?” she asked, aggravated. 

He looked around. “Something might still be out there.” 

Suddenly, Dean called for Sam. Sam found him and Devon a little ways from the group, kneeling down and staring at drag marks in the dirt. “The bodies were dragged from the campsite. But here...the tracks just vanish. It’s weird,” Dean said, standing up and keeping Devon within arm’s reach.They needed to figure out what they were dealing with – fast. “I’ll tell you what. It’s no skinwalker or black dog,” he said finally before grabbing her hand and walking back toward the group. 

They walked over, and he knelt down beside Hailey, who was holding a smashed cell phone and sniffling. “Hey, he could still be alive,” Dean said helpfully. 

Suddenly, they heard a man’s voice pierce the silence. “Help! Please! Somebody help me!” 

They all dropped their bags, and the boys pulled their guns out, cocking them while running toward the voice, Roy leading the way. They got to a clearing and stopped, looking around. Devon went to step ahead, but Dean put his arm out to stop her. 

“It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn’t it?” Hailey asked. 

They all listened intently for several moments and heard absolutely nothing. “Everybody back to camp,” Sam said suddenly. 

They jogged back to the campsite and found their bags were gone. 

“Our packs!” Hailey cried out. 

“So much for my GPS and my satellite phone,” Roy remarked. 

“What the hell’s going on?” she asked, frustrated. 

“It’s smart,” Sam said. “It wants to cut us off, so we can’t call for help.” 

Roy looked at him. “You mean someone – some nut job out there – just stole all our gear.” 

Sam walked up to Dean and Devon. “I need to speak with you both…in private.” 

Dean nodded, and they followed him into the woods a bit, away from the others. 

“Okay, let me see Dad’s journal,” Sam said. Dean pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to his brother. Sam started flipping pages. “All right. Check that out,” he said, handing the book back to Dean. 

“Oh, come on,” Dean said with a nervous chuckle. “Wendigos are in the Minnesota woods or Northern Michigan. I’ve never even heard of one this far west.” 

Sam shook his head. “Think about it, Dean – the claws, the way it can mimic a human voice…” 

Dean held his gun up, a scowl on his face. "Well, then, this is useless." 

Sam slapped the journal against Dean’s chest and walked off. “We gotta get these people to safety,” he said, turning back before stalking back to the group. 

“Dammit,” Dean muttered. “You stay with me, you hear me? Don’t wander off without me,” he said to Devon before following Sam back to the campsite, Devon on his heels. 

“All right, listen up,” Sam said to the group. “It’s time to go. Things have gotten…more complicated.” 

“What?” Hailey questioned. 

Roy sighed. “Kid, whatever’s out there, I think I can handle it.” 

“It's not me I’m worried about. If you shoot this thing, you’re just gonna make it mad. We have to leave…now,” Sam said. 

“One, you’re talking nonsense. Two, you’re in no position to give anybody orders,” Roy argued. 

“Relax,” Dean said, standing behind Sam. 

Sam sighed. “We never should have let you come out here in the first place, all right? I’m trying to protect you.” 

“You protect me?” Roy scoffed. “I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you good night!” 

Devon flinched at his choice of phrase. If he only knew…

Sam got in his face. “It’s a damn near perfect hunter. It’s smarter than you. And it’s gonna hunt you down and eat you alive unless we get your stupid, sorry ass out of here,” he said with a sarcastic smile. 

Roy laughed in his face. “You know you’re crazy, right?” 

Sam gritted his teeth. “Yeah? You ever hunt –?” 

Dean grabbed his shoulder and got in front of him, pushing him away. “Chill out,” he demanded. 

“Stop! Everybody just stop,” Hailey said, looking at Sam and Roy. “Look, Tommy might still be alive, and I’m not leaving here without him.” 

Dean looked at Sam and then Devon. “It’s getting late,” he said finally. “This thing is a good hunter in the day, but an unbelievable hunter at night. We’ll never beat it…not in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves.” 

As night fell, Sam and Devon collected wood for a fire while Dean drew different sigils in the dirt surrounding the camp. 

“One more time, that’s…?” Hailey asked him, unable to see what he was drawing. 

“Anasazi symbols. It’s for protection. The wendigo can’t cross over them.” Roy laughed. “Nobody likes a skeptic, Roy,” he said in response before joining Sam, who was sitting on a log away from everyone else. “You wanna tell me what’s going on in that freaky head of yours?” 

“Dean…” he started. 

Dean shook his head. “No, you’re not fine. You’re like a powder keg, man. It’s not like you. I’m supposed to be the belligerent one, remember?” 

Sam was silent for a few minutes before speaking. “Dad’s not here. I mean, that much we know for sure, right? He would have left us a message…a sign, right?” 

“Yeah, you’re probably right. To tell you the truth, I don’t think Dad’s ever been to Lost Creek.” 

"Then let’s get these people back to town, and let’s hit the road…go find Dad,” Sam said, looking at Dean who looked away. “I mean, why are we still even here?” He sighed. 

Dean stood up and squatted down in front of him, pulling out his dad’s journal and laying it in the palm of his hand. “This is why…this book. This is Dad’s single most valuable possession. Everything he knows about every evil thing is in here, and he’s passed it on to us. I think he wants us to pick up where he left off… You know, saving people, hunting things…the family business.” 

Sam looked at him for a moment before rubbing his hands over his face. “That makes no sense! Why…why doesn’t he just call us? Why doesn’t he tell us what the hell he wants, tell us where the hell he is?” 

“I don’t know. But the way I see it, Dad’s given us a job to do, and I intend to do it.” 

“Dean…no,” Sam said. “I gotta find Dad. I gotta find Jessica’s killer,” he said, his eyes glistening. “It’s the only thing I can think about.” 

Dean nodded. “Okay, all right. Sam, we’ll find them. I promise. Listen to me,” he said, looking intently at Sam, “you’ve gotta prepare yourself. I mean, this search could take a while. And all that anger, you can’t keep it burning over the long haul. It’s gonna kill you. You gotta have patience, man.” 

Sam looked away and shook his head. “How do you do it?” he asked with a sardonic chuckle. “How does Dad do it?” 

“Well, for one…them,” he said, looking over at the campfire where Hailey and Ben were huddled together, Devon sitting beside them talking quietly. “I mean, I figure our family’s so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others. It makes things a little bit more bearable. And I’ll tell you what else helps. Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can.” He grinned at Sam, and Sam finally smiled slightly. 

They were interrupted by a man’s voice screaming for help. They jumped up and ran back to the fire, Dean cocking his gun, Devon coming to stand beside him. “It’s trying to draw us out. Just stay cool. Stay put,” he told the group. 

“Inside the magic circle?” Roy asked sarcastically. 

Devon knew Dean was going to explode soon if Roy didn’t turn it down a notch. She clutched on to the back of Dean’s jacket when they heard a low growling coming from the woods surrounding them. She had hunted plenty of ghosts and creatures with Dean, but had never dealt with a wendigo, and she could admit she was scared. Dean had been hunting these types of things since he was a kid, but she was still somewhat new to it all. Over the years, she had been the researcher for John and Dean after Sam had left for Stanford, only just getting out in the field, so to speak, when John started giving Dean his own jobs. 

Roy pointed his rifle into the trees. “Okay, that’s no grizzly,” he said. 

They all stood silently, Sam shining his flashlight around them. 

Hailey tried to comfort Ben. “It’s okay. We’ll be all right, I promise,” she told him, kneeling beside him by the fire. 

Suddenly, a loud growl came from the trees to their left, and Hailey screamed. It was crashing through the brush and seemed to have them completely surrounded. Roy fired his rifle into the trees, and they heard a scream. 

“I hit it!” he cried and took off running through the trees after it. 

“Roy, no! Roy! Shit!” Dean yelled. “Don’t move,” he said, pointing at Hailey and Ben, and took off after Roy, Devon and Sam right behind him. “Roy!” 

“It’s over here!” They heard Roy call and followed his voice, then they heard him scream. 

They stopped, and Sam shined the light up into the trees, trying to see where it was. “Roy!” Dean called again. “Fuck,” he muttered and squeezed Devon’s hand lightly when he felt her trembling. “It’s okay,” he whispered to her, and she nodded silently. 

“Guys, let’s get back,” Sam said, and they all quickly returned to camp. 

Hailey stood up when they came back into view. "Where's Roy?" she asked. 

Sam just shook his head, and she sat back down next to Ben. 

“Why don’t you three get some sleep. Sam and I will keep watch,” Dean said, sitting down and leaning against a tree stump. Devon stretched out and laid her head in his lap while Sam took watch across the camp so they had a complete view around them. 

After a few hours, the sun came up, and the group started stirring. 

“Be honest with me,” Hailey said after she had eaten her protein bar. “What the hell is out there? You called it by a name yesterday. A…wendigo?” 

Sam and Dean looked at each other and sighed. “Yeah, and it’s a monster. A real, honest-to-God monster,” Dean said. 

She sat silently for a few minutes. “I mean, these types of things…they aren’t supposed to be real.” 

Dean inspected a slash on a nearby tree. “I wish I could tell you different.” 

“How do we know it’s not out there watching us?” she asked, looking around nervously.

He picked up a branch and tossed it in the campfire. “We don’t, but we’re safe for now.” 

“How do you know about this stuff?” she asked. 

He looked at her for a moment. “It kind of runs in the family,” he said with a small smile. 

Sam had done a quick perimeter check and walked back into camp. “So, we’ve got half a chance in the daylight,” he said. “And I, for one, wanna kill this evil son of a bitch.” 

Dean smirked at him. “Well, hell, you know I’m in.” 

“But what exactly is it?” Hailey asked. 

Sam pulled out his dad’s journal and turned to the page he was looking for. “It’s a wendigo. Wendigo is a Cree Indian word. It means ‘evil that devours.’ They’re hundreds of years old.” 

“Each one was once a man, sometimes an Indian or other times a frontiersman or a miner or hunter,” Dean added. 

“How’s a man turn into one of those things?” Hailey asked. 

Devon spoke up. “It’s always the same. During some harsh winter, the man finds himself starving – cut off from supplies or help – and becomes a cannibal to survive, eating other members of his tribe or camp.” 

“Like the Donner party,” Ben added. 

“That’s right,” she said. “Cultures all over the world believe that eating human flesh gives a person certain abilities – speed, strength, immortality...” 

Dean nodded. “Over the years, you become this less-than-human thing. You’re always hungry.” 

“So, if that’s true, how can Tommy still be alive?” Hailey asked them. 

Dean and Sam looked at each other before he turned back to her. “You’re not gonna like it.” 

“Tell me,” she said firmly. 

“More than anything, a wendigo knows how to last long winters without food. It hibernates for years at a time. When it’s awake, it keeps its victims alive. Uh…it stores them, so it can feed whenever it wants. If your brother’s alive, it’s keeping him somewhere dark, hidden and safe. And we gotta track it back there.” 

A look of concern crossed her face. “And then how do we stop it?” 

“Guns are useless. So are knives,” Devon said. 

“Basically,” Dean said with a shrug, “we gotta torch the sucker.” He held up a small propane canister, empty beer bottle and rag. 

He made a quick Molotov cocktail, and the five of them set out into the woods. They were following a trail of blood and claw marks left on several tree trunks, hoping it would lead them to the wendigo’s lair. 

After several minutes of hiking, Sam called out. “Dean!” He was looking up at gouges left high up a bunch of trees surrounding them. “You know what I was thinking? That those claw marks, so clear and distinct, they were almost too easy to follow.” 

They suddenly heard a loud growl behind them, and they turned, watching as something was circling them rapidly and moving brush as it ran. They all stood still, waiting, until Hailey turned to see blood dripping on her shoulder. She looked up and then screamed as Roy’s body came plummeting toward the ground. She fell, scratching her legs up on the multitude of broken branches on the ground, and Sam helped her up while Dean inspected the body. 

“His neck’s broken,” Dean said grimly. They heard the growling getting closer, and he shouted at them, “Run, run! Go, go, go!” 

They all took off at a run, and Ben tripped over a fallen log. Sam stopped and helped him up. 

Dean slid to a stop, causing Devon and Hailey to almost crash into him. In front of them was the wendigo, it’s tall, thin body blocking their way. It growled at them, and Hailey screamed. Before any of them could move, the wendigo had snatched them all up and was running toward it’s den. Dean managed to reach into his pocket and pull out a handful of M&Ms, dropping a few every few feet so Sam could find his way to them. 

It took them into an old abandoned mine, and when Dean tried to fight it off to give the girls a chance to run, it knocked him out. It then smacked the girls’ heads against the rock wall, effectively knocking them unconscious, as well, and then tied all of them up with their hands above their heads. The creature then wandered off to another part of the mine, leaving them alone.

It wasn't too long before Sam and Ben had found the mine by following Dean’s trail and had fallen through a wooden cover into the room the rest of them were being held in. Sam rushed up to Dean, slapping him in the face to wake him up. 

“Dean!” he said loudly, trying to rouse his brother. “Hey, you okay?” 

Dean opened his eyes and grimaced, looking at Sam until his eyes were able to focus. “Ugh… Yeah. Devon?” 

“She’s fine. She’s waking up,” Sam said as he reached up and cut Dean’s bindings, then did the same to Devon’s while Ben was waking Hailey up. “Gotcha,” he said as they both were cut free and fell into him. He helped Dean over to a ledge so he could sit down. “You sure you’re all right?” Sam asked. He was worried about his brother. Devon seemed okay, but Dean was wobbly and having a hard time opening his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Where is it?” Dean asked, looking around, forcing his eyes to focus.

Devon was rubbing the side of her head and helping Ben wake Hailey up completely. 

“It’s gone for now,” Sam said. 

Suddenly, Hailey's eyes focused on a body hanging in the shadows, and she rushed over to it, crying. “Tommy,” she whispered. She gasped when he took a deep breath and raised his head to look at her. “Cut him down,” she told Sam. 

Tommy looked at his siblings in surprise and wonder. 

“It’s okay, we’re gonna get you home,” she told him, holding his head in her lap. 

Devon looked over to see Dean standing up. “Check it out,” he said, holding up two flare guns he had found. He seemed much steadier on his feet now.

Sam chuckled. “Flare guns. Those’ll work.” 

They all started down a passageway they hoped led outside, Hailey and Ben supporting their brother. They heard growling in the distance, and Sam raised his flare gun. 

“Looks like someone’s home for supper,” Dean said. 

“We’ll never outrun it,” Hailey said fearfully. 

Dean looked at Sam. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” 

“Yeah, I think so.” 

He turned to look at them all. “All right, listen to me. Stay with Sam. He’s gonna get you out of here.” 

Devon looked at him wide-eyed. “Dean…no.” 

He raised his eyebrows and kissed her quickly before running off down another corridor. “It’s chow time, you fucking bastard!” he yelled. “Yeah, that’s right! Bring it on, baby! I taste good!” He stopped at a curve in the path and waved at them to go. 

Sam walked several paces ahead of them and then said, “All right, come on. Hurry!” 

They limped along behind him and could hear Dean yell, “Hey, you want some white meat, bitch? I’m right here!” 

Sam led them to an old railway that led outside. “Get him out of here,” he told them. “Go!” He turned around to head back into the mine to help Dean. 

“I’m going with you,” Devon said stubbornly, and he knew better than to argue with her. He nodded, and they silently crept down another passage. They were pressed against the wall when they heard stones fall behind them. They turned around and the wendigo was standing in front of them. Sam fired his flare gun at it, but he missed, and the flare bounced off of the wall, causing no damage to the creature but making it run away. He grabbed on to Devon's arm and pushed her down the pathway. 

“Go, go!” he shouted at her. 

They could hear the wendigo behind them, roaring and growling. It was gaining on them. They caught up with the Collins family, and they all ran together, knowing they couldn’t outrun it. When Tommy couldn’t run anymore, they stopped, and Sam pushed in front of them. 

“Get behind me,” he said, not knowing what he would do but knowing he had a better chance than any of them to get them out of this mess. 

Suddenly, the wendigo came around a corner and spotted them. It growled and snarled, inching closer to them. Sam had his arms out, trying to protect the entire group. It lifted it’s arms up and let out a loud roar. 

“Hey!” Dean shouted, causing it to turn toward him. He fired the flare gun and hit it right in the center of the abdomen. They all watched as it was incinerated and collapsed into a heap, the body continuing to burn. “Not bad, huh?” he asked with a smirk. 

Devon ran over to him, and he wrapped an arm around her, knowing she would give him hell later for pulling that stunt. “I’m all right,” he said softly. “How’s your head?” He tried to inspect the knot where the wendigo had cracked her head against the rock. 

She brushed his hand away. “It's fine. Let's get these people out of here. Tommy needs medical attention.” 

He nodded, and they all picked their way through the woods. Tommy was limping and was very weak, so it took them a long time before they reached the trailhead where they had all met up what seemed like days ago. They would have to send park rangers back to recover Roy’s body. They all piled into the Impala, and Dean sped toward the ranger station where EMS was called for Tommy. 

Once the paramedics and sheriff deputies had arrived, Ben and Sam made up a story about a huge grizzly bear that attacked the campsite and campers, as they knew no one would believe the truth. Dean, Devon and Hailey had gotten their various cuts patched up and were leaning against the back of the Impala. 

“So, really, I don’t know how to thank you all,” she said to them. “But I hope you find your father.” She put her arm around Ben, and they climbed into the ambulance with Tommy. 

“Man, I hate camping,” Dean said. 

“Me, too,” Sam agreed, and they all sighed wearily. 

Dean took a deep breath. "Sam, you know we're gonna find Dad, right?” 

Sam sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I know. But in the meantime…I’m driving,” he said with a smirk. 

Dean thought for a moment and tossed the keys to Sam. If he wasn’t so tired, he would have argued, but he looked at it as a great opportunity to get some sleep. He laid his head against the window, and Devon stretched out in the back seat, and they both fell asleep to the hum of the tires on the pavement and Sam tunelessly humming along with the radio.


	3. Dead in the Water

A/N: Warning… More smut is ahead. I wasn’t planning on it for this chapter but it just sorta happened… 

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did, I certainly wouldn’t be writing fanfic! Well, maybe I would...

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dean, Devon and Sam were sitting in a café eating breakfast, Dean searching a stack of newspapers for obituaries for their next case. He would read through one and scribble through it if it didn’t seem suspicious. Finally, he circled one. 

"Can I get you anything else?” their blonde, buxom waitress asked with a smile at Dean, making Devon scowl. He looked up at her and smiled, the pen between his teeth.

“Just the check, please,” Sam replied absently at the woman who walked off, smiling at Sam and Dean.

Dean dropped his head with a groan. “You know, Sam, you are allowed to have fun once in a while. And that’s fun,” he said, pointing to the waitress. When Sam just rolled his eyes, he sighed. “Here, take a look at this. I think I got one. Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. Last week, Sophie Carlton, eighteen, walks into the lake, doesn’t walk out. Authorities dragged the water – nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found, either. They had a funeral two days ago.”

Sam looked at the newspaper. “A funeral?”

“Yeah, it’s weird. They buried an empty coffin for closure or whatever.”

“Closure? What closure? People don’t just disappear, Dean. Other people just stop looking for them,” Sam said, a hard look on his face.

Devon groaned under her breath, knowing the boys were about to have it out again, and shit was about to hit the fan.

Dean looked at Sam, his face serious. “Something you want to say to me?”

Sam sighed. "The trail for Dad – it's getting colder every day.”

“Exactly. So what are we supposed to do?” Dean asked.

“I don't know. Something. Anything,” Sam spat.

“You know what? I’m sick of this attitude. You don’t think I wanna find Dad as much as you do?” Dean asked angrily.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I know you do."

“I’m the one that’s been with him every single day for the past two years while you’ve been off to college going to pep rallies. We will find Dad, but until then, we’re gonna kill everything bad between here and there, okay?”

“Dean,” Devon warned in a low tone, afraid they were about to have it out in the middle of the diner.

At that moment, the waitress walked by, her shirt pulled up to show her midriff, and Devon would have sworn she had rolled her shorts up to make them even shorter. 

Sam watched her walk off and then turned back to them. “All right, Lake Manitoc,” he said. “How far?”

Dean looked at him for a moment before replying. “About six hours.”

Sam threw a twenty down on the table with the check. “Let’s go.”

“Fine,” Dean said, standing up and shrugging into his leather coat. 

Devon saw the waitress give him another appraising look, so she walked over and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down and kissing him hard on the lips. Sam stared at her like she had lost her mind, as she wasn’t normally one for public displays of affection.

Dean pulled away and licked his lips. “Okay then…”

She smirked and looked back at the waitress as they walked toward the door, smiling inwardly at the woman’s expression. Devon knew Dean was too handsome for his own good, even though he didn’t seem to realize it, and she was used to the looks he garnered from other women, but this chick had a predatory look about her that Devon couldn’t overlook, so she wanted to make sure she knew he was taken.

They walked out of the diner and slid into the Impala, Devon between the boys as usual. She sat back and enjoyed the fresh air washing through the car as they drove through the Wisconsin woods and the classic rock pouring from the speakers.

Late afternoon, they pulled into Lake Manitoc and looked up the Carlton’s address. They found the lakefront cabin easily and pulled into the drive. Dean knocked on the door, and it was answered by a young man.

“Will Carlton?” he asked, assuming it was Sophie’s brother listed in the obituary.

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“I’m Agent Ford, this is Agents Hamill and Fischer. We’re with the U.S. Wildlife Service,” Dean said, flashing a fake badge at him. “We’d like to talk to you about your sister.”

Will nodded and walked outside, leading them to the lakefront. “She was about a hundred yards out. That’s where she got dragged down by…something.”

“And you’re sure she didn’t just drown?” Dean asked.

Will shook his head. “She was a varsity swimmer. She practically grew up in that lake. She’s as safe out there as in her own bathtub.”

"So no splashing, no signs of distress?” Devon asked him.

“No, that’s what I’m telling you.”

Sam nodded. “Did you see any shadows in the water, maybe some dark shape breach the surface?” Sam asked.

Will shook his head. "No, again, she was really far out there.” 

"You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?” Dean asked.

"No, never. Why? What do you think's out there?" Will asked. 

“We’ll let you know as soon as we do,” Dean said, turning to walk back to the car. 

Sam still stood there, looking at an older man sitting out on the dock. “What about your father?” he asked. “Can we talk to him?”

Will sighed. “Look, if you don’t mind… I mean, he didn’t see anything, and he’s kind of been through a lot.” 

Sam nodded. “We understand.” He turned, and they all got into the car, leaving the Carltons to deal with their grief.

“Now what?” Devon asked as they pulled back onto the highway.

Dean looked at his watch. “Let’s go see what the local sheriff thinks about everything.”

They drove back into town and parked in front of a small building with a sign that said “Manitoc Lake Sheriff Department.” They walked in and flashed their fake badges, and a matronly woman with gray hair said the sheriff would be with them in a moment.

After a few minutes, a middle aged man came out of an office to greet them. “I’m Sheriff Jake Devins. How can I help you folks?”

Dean gave him their fake names and told him they were there to investigate the drowning death of Sophie Carlton.

He came around and held the door open for them. “Now, I’m sorry, but why does the Wildlife Service care about an accidental drowning?” He ushered them into his office.

“You sure it’s accidental?” Sam asked. “Will Carlton saw something grab his sister.”

“Like what? Here, sit, please,” Jake said. “There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake. There’s nothing even big enough to pull down a person, unless it was the Loch Ness Monster. Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes, the mind plays tricks. Still, we dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep, just to be sure, and there was nothing down there.”

The three of them had sat down in chairs across the desk from him. “That’s weird, though,” Dean said. “That’s the third missing body this year.”

“I know,” Jake answered. “These are people from my town. These are people I care about.”

Dean nodded. “I know.”

Jake sighed. “Anyway… All this, it won’t be a problem much longer.”

“What do you mean?” Devon asked, leaning forward.

“Well, the dam, of course,” Jake said, expecting them to know exactly what he was talking about.

Dean nodded and sat back in his chair. “The dam, of course! It’s, uh… It sprung a leak.”

Jake looked at him. “It’s falling apart. And the Feds won’t give us the grant to repair it, so they’ve opened the spillway. In another six months, there won’t be much of a lake. There won’t be much of a town, either, but as Federal Wildlife, you already knew that.”

"Exactly," Dean said, nodding, as if he did know exactly what the sheriff was talking about. 

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and a young woman walked in. “Sorry, am I interrupting?” she asked. “I can come back later.”

They all stood up. “Agents, this is my daughter.”

Dean looked at her and grinned, making Devon roll her eyes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said with a charming smile and shaking her hand. “I’m Dean, this is Sam and Devon.” He nodded toward Sam, and Devon groaned inwardly. He had been trying to find Sam a hookup for weeks.

She smiled. “Andrea Bar. Hi.”

“They’re from the Wildlife Service about the lake,” Jake said. 

"Oh,” she said, and Devon noticed a strange expression on her face. A young boy then stepped around her, eyes cast down to the ground.

Dean saw him and tried to talk to him. “Oh, hey there,” he greeted. “What’s your name?”

The little boy turned and walked away, and his mother followed him. Jake spoke up. “His name’s Lucas.”

“Is he okay?” Sam asked.

Jake sighed. “My grandson’s been through a lot. We all have. Well, if there’s anything else I can do for you, please let me know,” Jake said, walking over to join his family. 

“Thanks,” Dean said and then had a sudden thought. “You know, now that you mention it, could you point us in the direction of a reasonably priced motel?” He grinned at Andrea.

“Lakefront Motel. Go around the corner, it’s two blocks up,” she said.

“Two… Would you mind showing us?” he asked with a grin at Sam. 

She chuckled. “You want me to walk you two blocks?”

Devon and Sam both groaned to themselves. “Not if it’s any trouble,” Dean said.

“I'm headed that way anyway,” she said. She turned to her father. “I’ll be back to pick up Lucas at 3:00. We’ll go to the park, okay, sweetie?” She kissed Lucas goodbye and led them out to the sidewalk.

They were following her when Dean cleared his throat, making Sam look over at him. Dean nodded toward Andrea with an expectant look on his face, but Sam just scowled and looked away, making Dean roll his eyes. “So, cute kid,” he finally said, since Sam wouldn’t take the hint. 

“Thanks,” she said, walking quickly.

He gave Sam a pointed look again, but Sam just ignored him. “Kids are the best, huh?” he said awkwardly. 

She smiled and pointed. “There it is. Like I said, two blocks. Must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line,” she said, walking away. “Enjoy your stay!” she called to them. 

“’Kids are the best?’” Sam asked in disbelief. “You don’t even like kids.”

“I love kids!” Dean objected. “ And I was trying to help you! Maybe if you get laid, you won’t be so damn cranky all the time!”

“Name three children you even know,” Sam replied. 

Dean looked at him for a few moments and couldn’t answer.

Sam waved him off. “And I don’t need your help to get laid, Dean,” he said as he walked away from them into the motel office. 

Devon just laughed at him and followed Sam.

“I’m thinking!” Dean said, scratching his head.

They reserved two rooms, but they all immediately went to Dean and Devon’s room to research Lake Manitoc. Sam opened his laptop and started searching local news stories.

“So, there’s the three drowning victims this year,” he said, reading through an article on the screen.

Dean and Devon were unpacking. “And before that?” Dean asked.

"Uh, yeah... Six more, spread out over the past thirty-five years. Those bodies were never recovered, either. If there is something out there, it’s picking up its pace.”

“So, we got a lake monster on a binge?” Dean asked, folding a shirt.

Sam shook his head, continuing to read. “This whole lake monster theory… It just bugs me.”

Dean dropped the pair of jeans he was holding and came to look over Sam’s shoulder. “Why?”

“Loch Ness, Lake Champlain… There are literally hundreds of eyewitness accounts, but here, almost nothing. Whatever it is out there, no one’s living to talk about it,” Sam said.

Devon joined them at the computer. “Wait… Bar, Christopher Bar,” she said, pointing at the name of one of the missing people, “where have we heard that name before?”

Sam read the information the article listed about him. “Christopher Bar, the victim in May. Oh, Christopher Bar was Andrea’s husband, Lucas’s father. Apparently, he took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was on a floating wooden platform when Chris drowned two hours before the kid got rescued.”

Devon gasped at a photo of Lucas Bar, his face white as a ghost, wrapped in a blanket beside his grandfather in his police uniform. He looked shell shocked. “No wonder he won’t talk. That poor little boy…”

“Maybe we have an eyewitness, after all,” Sam said.

Dean nodded. “No wonder that kid was so freaked out. Watching one of your parents die isn’t something you just get over,” he said.

Devon slipped her hand into his and squeezed his fingers. She knew he was thinking about his mother, and her heart hurt for him. “Think we should try to talk to him?” she asked.

“Worth a shot,” Dean said, and they piled back into the Impala. Andrea had said she was taking Lucas to the park at three, so they knew exactly where they would be. They drove to the one park in town and saw Andrea sitting on a bench.

“Can we join you?” Sam asked when they approached her.

She looked up at them and smiled before looking back at Lucas who was sitting on the playground, coloring by himself. “I’m here with my son,” she said, glancing at Dean.

“Oh,” Dean said, looking over at Lucas and pretending like he just noticed him. “Mind if I say hi?” He gave her that panty-dropping grin and walked over to join the young boy.

“Tell your friend this whole Jerry Maguire thing’s not gonna work on me,” she said with a smile.

Devon sat down beside her. “That's not what this is about,” she said, watching as Dean approached Lucas and squatted down across from him. “I know it seems that way, but it’s not.”

“Oh…” Andrea said, and Devon would have sworn she looked let down. “So, what’s it about then?”

“We’re looking into the drownings that have happened this year. Looking to see if there was anything preventable,” Sam said, watching his brother pick up a piece of paper and a crayon while he talked to Lucas.

She sighed. “You know, the town’s been through enough with losing the people we lost. Do you really have to open those wounds again?”

He smiled at her sadly. “I know, and I’m sorry. But if something caused your husband’s death, wouldn’t you want it stopped so it doesn’t happen to anyone else?”

She watched Lucas drawing in silence as Dean walked back toward them. After a few moments, she spoke again. “Lucas hasn’t said a word, not even to me…not since his dad’s accident.”

Dean had joined them. “Yeah, we heard. Sorry.”

“What are the doctors saying?” Sam asked.

She sighed. “That it’s a kind of post-traumatic stress.”

Sam shook his head in sympathy. “That can’t be easy, for either of you.”

“We moved in with my dad. He helps out a lot. It’s just…when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw…” She trailed off.

Dean looked at her for a moment before looking pointedly at Sam. “Kids are strong,” he said. “You’d be surprised what they can deal with.”

She smiled at him. “You know, he used to have such life. He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth. Now he just sits there, drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish… Hey, sweetie!” She cut off when Lucas walked over to them. They all stared dumbstruck as he handed a piece of paper to Dean, looking at the ground the entire time.

Dean took the paper. “Thanks. Thanks, Lucas,” he said. It was a picture of a two-story house with a red roof and a window dormer. Lucas did not say anything and just turned and walked back to his drawing materials he had left on the park bench. Dean looked at Devon and then Sam before Andrea stared at him in wonder.

“Wow… He must really like you,” she said in amazement. “He hasn’t responded to any man since his dad died.”

Dean shrugged it off. “Yeah, well, like I said… Kids are the best. You guys ready?” They all said goodbye to Andrea and walked back to the Impala.

“You were awful quiet,” Sam remarked to Devon as they headed back to the motel.

She nodded. “Mm hmm.”

Dean looked at him out of the corner of his eye, and Sam just shrugged. Neither of them knew what was wrong with her.

She was silent the entire drive back to their rooms and just nodded when Dean asked about them ordering a pizza since a storm was blowing in. When she locked herself in the bathroom to take a shower, Sam turned to him.

“What the hell did you do, Dean?” Sam asked, baffled.

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know! I didn’t do anything!”

Sam shook his head. “You had to have done something.”

“Why does it have to be me? If I did something to piss her off, smartass, then tell me what it was!” Dean huffed.

Sam opened his laptop and began searching the Internet for creatures and monsters that could pull a human underwater and make their corpse disappear. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been flirting with Andrea…”

Dean glared at him. “I was trying to help you! And Dev knows I don’t mean anything by it!”

“Yeah, well, Andrea thought you were coming on to her hard and heavy and basically said that in front of Devon.” He clicked some more keys.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He was a natural flirt; he couldn’t help it. And Devon had always known it was innocent on his part, but there were times when he probably went overboard. Either this was one of those times, or Andrea thought he was really serious when all he was trying to do was feel her out to see if she would be a good fit for Sam.

Dean moped around while Devon was in the shower and Sam was on his laptop. The pizza arrived before she was finished, so he and Sam looked at each other for a few minutes uncomfortably, wondering if they should go ahead and eat or if that would just piss her off more. Finally, Dean opened the box and pulled a slice out, taking a big bite. “Fuck it,” he muttered. He figured she was already mad at him; what was one more infraction?

They ate in silence, Sam still searching online for clues while Dean grew more uncomfortable. Finally, Devon opened the bathroom door and immediately crawled into bed, turning away from the boys. Dean looked at Sam in surprise, his anger kicking in. He finished his slice of pizza and grabbed his coat. “I’ll be at the bar,” he said and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Sam sat in the uncomfortable silence for a moment before closing his laptop quietly and standing up. “I-I’m gonna go to my room,” he mumbled and left, shutting the door silently and going next door to his room. At that moment, he wanted to be anywhere but there.

XXX

Dean walked back into the motel room, shutting the door silently behind him. Devon appeared asleep, facing away from him. He clenched his jaw, still feeling the whiskey he had consumed coursing though his system. He wasn’t drunk, just a bit tipsy. “Devon?” he whispered. When she didn’t respond, he shook his head and headed into the bathroom to take a shower. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with her, but he had just spent the last three hours downing shots because of it, and he was pissed.

He made as much noise as he could in the bathroom, but when he reemerged, she was still asleep, her breathing steady, facing the wall. He shook his head and checked the lock on the door before he slid into bed beside her. Dean lay there in the dark, staring at the shadows moving on the ceiling from the storm outside and listening to her breathe. He had thought the alcohol would lull him to sleep, but slumber was elusive. 

In her sleep, Devon had automatically scooted closer to Dean, and it wasn’t long before her ass was touching his thigh. He rolled his eyes and tried again to fall asleep, but his body was having other thoughts. He groaned inwardly as his erection started to grow in his boxers and cursed himself. He crossed his arms across his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, but after a few minutes, he gave up. He was horny and he was pissed, and it was all Devon’s fault.

“Fuck it,” he muttered and turned onto his side so that her bottom was now cupped against his pelvis. He sighed as he pressed against her soft flesh, and he slid his arm under her head. Devon sighed and unconsciously relaxed against his body. Dean reached down and slid his boxers down, kicking them off under the covers somewhere. He groaned when his cock pressed into the cleft in her butt. Even though he was pissed at her, he still stopped to admire that fine ass of hers. Suddenly, he had an idea, and a smug smile crossed his face.

Dean scooted closer until his entire body was pressed to the length of hers, and he wrapped his arm that was under her head up and around, digging his fingers into her hair and bending her head back, exposing the smooth column of her neck. He wrapped his other arm around her waist, pressing his hand against her lower abdomen and skimming his finger across the elastic waistband of her panties. He bent his head down and pulled her earlobe into his mouth, letting his hot breath wash over her skin, and he grinned when he felt goosebumps erupt. 

“What are you doing?” she muttered, her voice heavy with sleep.

“Whatever the fuck I want,” he whispered into her ear, dipping his two fingers under the elastic and running through her folds. 

Devon groaned and tried to arch her back, but Dean held her in a vice grip against him, and she found that she couldn’t move. “Stop it. I’m mad at you.”

He chuckled and pushed his fingers inside her, groaning at how wet she already was. “That’s fine, cause I’m mad at you, too.”

She tried to move again, but was unable to. Instead, she lifted her leg and rested it on top of his thigh, trying to spread her legs more so he could get more friction. “Dean…” 

“Shhh,” he whispered in her ear, pulling the tender skin between his teeth and nibbling and sucking it into his mouth. He wanted to mark her. “Don’t you trust me?”

Devon nodded, feeling as if she would explode from the sensations he was causing between her legs. He sometimes woke her up in the middle of the night for sex, but this was different. She knew he was pissed because of how she had acted earlier, and he was a tad drunk which was a potential dangerous combination in Dean, but when you added horny to the mix… God, the thought made her weak in the knees. “Let me move,” she said, trying to arch her back again to push his fingers deeper into her body, needing more friction.

He licked her neck and added a third finger, pumping them in and out of her several times before withdrawing them. “Nope. You pissed me off, and you’re gonna have to pay for that.” He slid his fingers over her clit twice before stopping and just letting his hand rest in her wet folds.

She groaned, actually more turned on by Dominant Dean that she was by what he was doing to her. Dean was usually a very selfless lover who was fun and playful in bed and always treated her as if she was the most precious thing in his world. Now, he was silent and sullen, pissed and domineering, and she found it extremely hot. “W-What are you gonna do to me?” she squeaked.

He grinned against her skin. “Well, whatever I want,” he said, his voice low and husky, making her shiver. He began a back and forth slide with his fingers, and when she tried to move her hips, he chuckled. “Huh uh,” he whispered.

Devon was completely immobile in his grip. Her neck was pressed against his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her head, his fingers threaded through her hair. If she moved her head, it pulled her hair, and when he pressed his face against the back of her head, she couldn’t move it at all. Her top leg did have some movement, but her bottom leg was under his, and she couldn’t move her back or hips at all. The only real movement she had was her arm that she currently had laying on his side, her fingers digging into his hard thigh that was under hers. “Dean, please…” she said softly.

He was so hard it was beginning to get painful, so he pulled his fingers out of her and tugged at her panties, easily ripping the flimsy fabric and pulling them out of the way. He hiked her leg up a little higher and pushed into her, groaning at how tight and wet she was. He thrust forward until he was completely seated inside her.

She gasped at the sudden intrusion and tried to flex her hips to take him in even deeper. She was unable to and sighed when he moved slightly and slid into her even farther. “Dean…” she whispered.

Dean didn’t answer her but pressed his hand against her stomach as he thrust into her, continuing to hold her completely still. He slid his middle finger down across her clit and let it rest there, grinning to himself as she moaned and attempted to shift her hips for more friction. He wouldn’t move his hand but every time he thrust into her, it pushed her up and over his rough and calloused finger, and she would cry out, fisting her fingers of one hand into the sheet and digging her nails into his thigh with the other. 

Devon was so turned on that she knew it wouldn’t take more than a few thrusts before she would be coming hard. “Dean…” she groaned when she felt the pressure in her lower region building to the point where she finally felt it explode. Her eyes slid shut, and she saw stars as her muscles clenched around Dean, who was buried completely inside of her. She squeezed the sheet in her hand as she rode out her climax and felt when Dean came inside of her. He groaned low in her ear, and his arms tightened around her. She felt him shudder before his arms went limp.

“Fuck,” he muttered, allowing his head to collapse against hers, his arms still wrapped loosely around her so that she could finally move.

"Damn,” she muttered, trying to catch her breath. “Remind me to piss you off more often.”

He chuckled and pressed his lips against her hair. “No, let’s not.”

Devon snuggled closer to him and began to drift off into a peaceful sleep. “I’m sorry I acted like such a bitch,” she said quietly.

“And I went overboard with the Andrea chick. I’m sorry; I’ll tone it down,” he replied, and they both fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.

XXX

Sam took a deep breath and opened the door to Dean and Devon’s room, hoping the tension had dissipated somewhat. He walked in and immediately spoke. “So, I think it’s safe to say we can rule out Nessie.” He noticed the two of them seemed to be back on friendly terms, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“I just drove by the Carlton house,” Sam said, sitting down on the bed beside his brother. “There was an ambulance there. Will Carlton is dead.”

Dean looked at Sam in surprise. “He drowned?”

“Yep, in the sink,” Sam said, his expression hard.

Devon looked at him in surprise from the bathroom where she was putting her make up on. She then scowled at her reflection. She normally didn’t fuss too much with her appearance unless she was posing as FBI, but today, she had taken more time on her hair and makeup, and she was mad at herself for allowing her self-doubt to take over. Even though she and Dean had kissed and made up, she was still feeling very unsure of herself with the tall, willowy and beautiful Andrea Bar thinking Dean was into her.

Dean looked at him in shock. “So, you’re right. This isn’t a creature. We’re dealing with something else.”

“Yeah, but what?” Devon said.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “A water wraith, maybe? Some kind of demon? I mean, something that controls water... Water that comes from the same source,” he finished, a tone of sudden understanding in his voice.

Sam nodded. “The lake – which would explain why it’s upping the body count. The lake is draining. It’ll be dry in a few months. Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it’s running out of time.” He sounded excited.

“And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone almost anywhere,” Dean said, his eyes wide. “This is gonna happen again soon.”

Devon walked out of the bathroom and ignored Sam’s look of surprise at her appearance. He wasn’t used to seeing her so dressed up. “And we do know one other thing for sure. We know this has something to do with Bill Carlton.”

Dean nodded and pulled his boots on. “It took both his kids.”

“And I’ve been asking around,” Sam said. “Lucas’s dad, Chris… Bill Carlton’s godson.”

“Let’s go pay Mr. Carlton a visit,” Dean said, and they followed him to the Impala, Devon sliding between the boys as usual.

Sam sent up a silent prayer of thanks that everything seemed back to normal with her.

After a quick drive to the lake, they pulled up in front of Bill Carlton’s lakefront house and saw him sitting on the dock where he had been last time they were here. He was staring out at the lake, looking at nothing.

“Mr. Carlton?” Sam asked softly. “We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“We’re from the Department of –“ Dean started, but Mr. Carlton cut him off.

“I don’t care who you’re with,” he said, his voice full of sadness. “I’ve answered enough questions today.”

Sam continued. “Your son said he saw something in that lake. What about you? You ever seen anything out there?” Bill Carlton didn’t answer him and just continued to stare out at the water with a blank expression. “Mr. Carlton, Sophie’s drowning and Will’s death…we think there might be a connection to you or your family.”

“My children are gone,” he replied, his voice sounding as if he were on the verge of tears. “It’s…It’s worse than dying,” he said, looking up at them. “Go away…please.”

They all nodded and left him sitting on the dock. “What do you think?” Sam asked.

“I think the poor guy’s been through hell,” Dean said. “I also think he’s not telling us something.”

Sam leaned against the car. “So, now what? What is it?” He asked as Dean stared at the house.

“Huh. Maybe Bill’s not the only one who knows something,” he said in surprise, pulling a piece of paper from the inner pocket of his leather jacket. He opened it up, and they all stared at the house that Lucas had drawn for him the day before. It looked identical to the Carlton house.

Devon groaned inwardly. "We need to try to talk to Lucas again,” she said, trying to sound pleasant but hating the fact that they would have to see the lovely Andrea again.

Dean looked at her out of the corner of his eye and nodded. “Let’s go.” 

They piled back into the car and headed toward the sheriff’s house. Dean knocked on the door, and Devon bit the inside of her lip when Andrea answered, a huge smile on her face directed toward Dean.

He smiled politely at her and got right to the point. “Hey, Andrea. I…I need to talk to Lucas, if you don’t mind.”

She stared at him in surprise. “Why?”

He pulled the picture out of his pocket. “I need to ask him about this.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I just need to talk to him, just for a few minutes,” he pleaded.

She shook her head. “He won’t say anything. What good’s it gonna do?”

Sam pulled out the puppy dog eyes. “Andrea, we think more people might get hurt. We think something’s happening out there,” he said softly. 

“My husband, the others…they just drowned. That’s all,” she said, and Devon felt she was trying to convince herself as much as she was them.

“If that’s what you really believe, then we’ll go,” Dean said, all pretense gone from his voice. He was all business. “But if you think there’s even a possibility that something else could be going on here, please let me talk to your son,” he said firmly.

Andrea looked at him for a moment before she nodded. “He’s in his room. Follow me.” She led them up the stairs to a small bedroom where Lucas was sitting on the floor, drawing, his army men around him.

Dean paused at the doorway before he entered and squatted down next to the boy. “Hey, Lucas. You remember me?” Lucas continued to draw, so Dean looked at some of his drawings. They were all of a red bicycle. “You know, I, uh…I wanted to thank you for that last drawing, but the things is, I need your help again.” He had sat down on the floor and pulled the drawing out of his pocket. He unfolded it and pushed it toward Lucas. “How did you know to draw this? Did you know something bad was gonna happen? Maybe you could nod yes or no for me.” Lucas continued to draw, appearing as if he didn’t hear anything Dean was saying.

“You’re scared,” Dean said quietly. “It’s okay, I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn’t feel like talking, just like you, but see, my mom…I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave, too.”

Lucas stopped drawing and set his crayon down, looking up at Dean. Andrea looked at Sam and Devon in amazement. Lucas then looked through his pile of drawings and handed another one to Dean, this one of a yellow house with a church beside it.

"Thanks, Lucas,” Dean said quietly and smiled slightly at the boy. He stood up, and they all headed toward the front door.

“I've never seen him respond to anyone like that,” she said excitedly. “You're really good with kids.”

He smiled uncomfortably at her before heading out the door, his hand on Devon’s lower back. “Thanks, Andrea. We’ll be in touch.”

They all got back into the car, and Dean just stared driving aimlessly while they talked. Sam had the newest picture open in his lap.

“Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died,” Dean said.

“There are cases going through a traumatic experience could make certain people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies,” Devon said.

Dean nodded. “And whatever’s out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? It’s only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you’ve got a better lead, please,” he said when Sam groaned in disbelief.

Sam threw his hand up. “All right. We got another house to find.”

“The only problem is there’s about a thousand yellow two-stories in this county alone,” Dean complained. 

“See this church? I bet there’s less than a thousand of those around here,” Sam said.

Dean smirked. “Oh, college boy thinks he's so smart!” he joked, making Sam and Devon laugh.

After a moment, Sam spoke again. "You know, um...what you said about mom…you never told me that before.”

Dean stared straight ahead. “It’s no big deal.” Sam continued to stare at him, and finally Dean looked over at him and rolled his eyes. “Oh, God…we’re not gonna have to hug or anything, are we?”

Devon laughed and laid her head on his shoulder. He had told her about his mom years ago, but she knew the wounds would always be fresh.

“Only if you want to,” Sam quipped.

“Stop!” Devon shouted suddenly, causing Dean to slam on the brakes.

“What the hell?” he asked, looking around for whatever imminent danger she had spotted.

She pointed ahead of them at a large, white church. “Look familiar?”

He pulled over and parked and, they got out. He held the picture up, and they all stared at it then the church. When they looked over, there was a yellow two story house with a gate that looked just like the drawing Lucas had given him. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Dean said, and they all stared at one another before walking across the street to knock on the door. 

It was answered by an elderly woman. “We’re sorry to bother you, ma’am, but does a little boy live here, by any chance?” he asked. “He might wear a blue ball cap, has a red bicycle.”

She sighed and looked down. “No, sir. Not for a very long time. Peter’s been gone thirty-five years now. The police never…I never had any idea what happened. He just disappeared. Losing him…you know, it’s worse than dying,” she said, trying to keep from crying.

Sam nudged Dean to look at the small army men that were lined up on a shelf with a photo of a young boy.

“Did he disappear from here? I mean, from this house?” Devon asked gently.

The elderly woman looked up at her, her eyes glistening. “He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school, and he never showed up.”

Devon placed her hand over the woman’s arthritic hand and squeezed. “Could we see his room?” She asked softly, and the lady nodded and led them upstairs. 

Peter’s room looked exactly like it must have done the day he left for school. There was a photo on the dresser mirror of two boys in Boy Scout uniforms that Dean noticed and pulled off to look at the back. 

“Peter Sweeney and Billy Carlton, 1970,” he read. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. He turned to Mrs. Sweeney. “Thank you, ma’am. We’re trying to find out what happened to Peter, and we’ll let you know what we come across.”

She showed them to the door, wiping at her eyes. “Bless you. Bless you all.” 

They quickly walked back to the car, knowing they needed to get to Bill Carlton ASAP. “Shit,” Dean muttered. He started speeding back to the Carlton’s.

“So, this little boy, Peter Sweeney, vanishes, and this is all connected to Bill Carlton somehow,” Sam said.

“Bill sure as hell seems to be hiding something,” Dean said. 

Devon nodded. “Bill, the people he loves…they’re all getting punished,” she said in understanding. 

Dean nodded. “What if Bill did something?”

“What if Bill killed him?” Sam asked. 

"Peter’s spirit would be furious,” Devon said. “It’d want revenge. It’s possible.”

They pulled back into the Carlton’s driveway and knocked on the door, but there was no answer. 

“Mr. Carlton!” Sam called.

“Dean!” Devon shouted, and they all turned to see Bill Carlton heading out in the lake in a small motorboat.

“Dammit!” Dean yelled, and they all ran to the dock. 

They all shouted at him, trying to get his attention and get him back to shore, but he ignored them. They all jumped as a sudden…something…came up under the boat and turned it over with a huge splash, and Bill Carlton and the boat disappeared below the surface. Devon pulled out her phone and called 911, and they all stood on the dock, praying he would reappear but he never did. The sheriff, Jake, was the first on the scene and grimaced when he saw the three of them standing there.

They all stood against the Impala while he talked to another witness and then approached them. “I’ll follow you all to my office,” he said shortly and climbed in his cruiser.

“He’s awful surly,” Devon muttered as Dean pulled out on the highway and groaned at having a cop right behind him.

They parked in front of the sheriff’s office and walked inside, Jake right beside them. Andrea Bar was sitting inside with Lucas, and Devon thought he seemed agitated.

Andrea turned around when they came in the door. “Sam, Dean. I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said, smiling at them. Devon gritted her teeth at her obvious omission.

“So, now you’re on a first name basis?” Jake asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you dinner,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.

He looked at Lucas and the bucket of chicken. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really don’t have the time.”

She looked at Dean and then back at her father. “I heard about Bill Carlton. Is it true? Is something going on with the lake?”

He looked over at them before looking back at his daughter. “Right now, we don’t know what the truth is, but I think it might be better if you and Lucas went on home.”

At that, Lucas started whimpering and ran over and grabbed Dean’s sleeve, tugging on it.

He bent down and looked at the little boy who was obviously terrified. “Lucas, hey, what is it? Lucas, it’s okay. It’s okay,” he said as Andrea tried to pull him away but Lucas wrapped his arms around Dean’s arm and held on tightly. 

He finally let go, and his mother wrapped her arms around him. She ushered him out of the office, and he looked back at Dean with a panicked look on his face. Dean watched the little boy leave, wishing he knew what he was dealing with so he could help Lucas.

Jake walked into his office and threw his jacket in frustration before they joined him and sat in the chairs across from his desk. “Okay, just so I’m clear, you see…something…attack Bill’s boat, sending Bill, who is a very good swimmer, by the way, into the drink, and you never see him again?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the desk.

They all looked at each other and then back at Jake. “Yeah, that about sums it up,” Dean answered.

“And I’m supposed to believe this, even though I’ve already sonar-swept that entire lake and what you’re describing is impossible, and you’re not really Wildlife Service?” Jake asked. Dean looked at him in fake shock. “That’s right, I checked. The department’s never heard of you three.”

Sam’s mouth shut, and Devon just stared at her shoes. Leave it to Dean to speak up…

“See? Now, we can explain that…” he started.

Jake interrupted him. “Enough…please. The only reason you’re breathing free air is one of Bill’s neighbors saw him steering out that boat just before you did. So, we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials and hold you as material witnesses to Bill Carlton’s disappearance, or we can chalk this all up to a bad day, you get in your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don’t ever darken my doorstep again.” 

“Door number two sounds good,” Sam said.

“That’s the one I’d pick,” Jake said.

They all stood silently and filed out of the office. They went back to their motel and quickly packed their bags, tossing them in the trunk.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Sam said, looking around and half expecting the sheriff to come flying up in front of them, sirens blaring.

Dean nodded. "Don't have to tell me twice." He put the car in drive and headed toward the interstate, however, when they got to the crossroads, he stopped, letting the car idle.

Sam looked around. “Green,” he said, indicating the traffic light.

“What?” Dean asked, distracted.

“Light’s green, babe,” Devon said, looking at him.

Dean stared at the light for a moment and then slowly pulled forward, turning right.

“Uh, the interstate’s the other way,” Sam said, looking at the sign that pointed them to the left to go to Milwaukee.

"I know,” he said. “But I can’t leave here without knowing Lucas is okay.”

They drove back to the sheriff’s house and walked up to the front door. The lights were all off, and it looked as if everyone was in bed.

“You sure about this?” Sam asked. “It’s pretty late, man.”

Dean looked at him for a moment and then reached to press the doorbell. But before he could push the button, the door was jerked open by a panicked and hyperventilating Lucas. “Lucas? Lucas!”

Lucas ran away from them and up the steps. They looked at each other for a split second before following him, knowing something was terribly wrong. When they reached the steps, they found water cascading down them, and it was coming from underneath a door in the hallway. Lucas ran up to that door and started beating on it.

Dean pulled him away and gave him to Devon who wrapped her arms around him. He then stepped back and kicked the door open, revealing Andrea Bar underneath the murky green water that was overflowing the tub. Sam pushed past him while Dean wrapped his arms around Lucas and Devon and reached down into the water to try to pull her up, but she wouldn’t budge. He was grunting and straining, but it was as if something was holding her on the bottom of the bathtub. 

He finally got her head above water, and she took a huge breath in, but something immediately pulled her back underwater, and Sam fought against whatever it was. He finally was able to pull her up enough that he could slide her over the edge of the tub onto the floor. They both lay there, gasping for air, Andrea also coughing and sobbing. 

Devon had turned Lucas away and once she knew Andrea was okay, she and Dean took him downstairs. He was shaking and crying, and he climbed up in Dean’s lap and just rested his head on his chest. After several minutes, Sam led Andrea downstairs. She had put on a hoodie sweatshirt and sweatpants and was pale and visibly shaken. She joined Devon and Dean in the sunroom and sat down on a couch. Sam pushed a cup of hot coffee into her hands. 

“What can you tell us?” he asked.

She just shook her head. “No. It doesn’t make any sense. I’m going crazy,” she said, tears running down her face.

“No, you’re not,” Sam said softly. “Tell me what happened…everything.”

She wiped at her face and stared up at the ceiling. “I heard…I thought I heard…there was this voice.”

“What did it say?”

She sighed. “It said…it said, ‘come play with me.’ What’s happening?” she asked, sobbing quietly.

Dean had handed Lucas over to Devon and was currently snooping through Jake’s office, trying to figure out what Andrea’s connection to Peter Sweeney was. He came across a photo album labeled ‘Jake – 12 Years Old.’ He flipped through the pages until he saw exactly what he was looking for and took it to Andrea.

“Do you recognize the kids in these pictures?” he asked her, showing her a photo of an entire Boy Scout group.

She looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “What? Um, no, I mean, except that’s my dad right there. He must have been about twelve in these pictures.”

Dean looked at Sam. “Chris Bar’s drowning…the connection wasn’t to Bill Carlton. It must have been to the sheriff.”

“Bill and the sheriff – they were both involved with Peter,” Sam said.

“What about Chris?” Andrea asked. “My dad…what are you talking about?”

Dean looked up when Lucas walked into view, pulling Devon behind him to the back door. “Lucas? Lucas, what is it?”

Lucas opened the door and walked outside. They all followed him quickly, and he led them down to the edge of the lake and a soft, mossy area of ground. He looked up at Dean expectantly.

“You and Lucas get back to the house and stay there, okay?” he instructed Andrea. He and Sam grabbed the shovels out of the trunk and began to dig. Suddenly, they hit something hard, and they all began to dig quickly with their hands. They grabbed a hold of part of the item sticking up and pulled out an old red bicycle. 

“That’s Peter’s bike,” Devon said quietly, staring at it in shock. 

Suddenly, they heard a gun cock. "Who are you?" Jake asked them. He was standing behind them, his gun pointed at them.

Sam dropped the bike and raised his hands. “Put the gun down, Jake.”

Jake looked at the bike. “How did you known that was there?”

“What happened? You and Bill killed Peter, drowned him in the lake and then buried the bike?” Dean asked him. “You can’t bury the truth, Jake. Nothing stays buried.”

Jake shook his head. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“You and Bill killed Peter Sweeney thirty-five years ago,” Dean said. “That’s what the hell we’re talking about. And now, you’ve got one seriously pissed off spirit.”

Andrea came running up to them at this point. “Dad!”

“It’s gonna take Andrea, Lucas, everyone you love,” Devon said. “It’s gonna drown them, and it’s gonna drag their bodies God knows where so you can feel the same pain Peter’s mom felt. And then, after that, it’s gonna take you, and it’s not gonna stop until it does.”

He looked at her. “How do you know that?”

Sam spoke up. “Because that’s exactly what it did to Bill Carlton.”

“Listen to yourselves. You’re insane.”

Dean shook his head. “We don’t really give a rat’s ass what you think of us. But if we’re gonna bring down this spirit, we need to find the remains, salt them, and burn them into dust. Now tell me you buried Peter somewhere. Tell me you didn’t just let him go in the lake!”

Jake stared at them for a few moments, blinking. 

“Dad, is any of this true?” Andrea asked.

“No, don’t listen to them,” he said. “They're liars, and they're dangerous.”

She shook her head. “Something tried to drown me. Chris died on that lake! Dad, look at me!” He finally met her eyes. “Tell me you…you didn’t kill anyone.”

He stared down at the ground, breathing heavily. He wouldn’t answer her.

“Oh, my God,” she said quietly.

Jake sighed. “Billy and I were at the lake. Peter was the smallest one. We always bullied him, but this time…it got rough. We were holding his head under the water. We didn’t mean to… But we held him under too long, and he drowned. We let the body go, and it sank. Oh, Andrea, we were kids. We were so scared. It was a mistake, but Andrea, to say that I have anything to do with these drownings, with Chris…because of some ghost… It’s not rational!” He was looking at her pleadingly.

Dean sighed. “All right, listen to me, all of you. We need to get you away from this lake, as far as we can right now.”

Andrea suddenly gasped, and they all turned to see Lucas on the dock, reaching into the water for something. They were all running toward him and shouting his name, but he was pulled into the water. Jake stopped at the water’s edge, gasping at something, and Dean and Sam ran to the end of the dock and dived into the water. Andrea was about to jump in when Sam stopped her, and Devon wrapped her arms around her to keep her from going into the water.

The boys kept surfacing and diving, continuing to look for Lucas without luck. They were all watching the lake, but Devon and Andrea heard Jake talking and turned to see him walking into the water.

“Peter, if you can hear me… Please, Peter, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Peter, Lucas…he’s just a little boy,” he said, wading out into the lake. “Please, it’s not his fault. It’s mine. Please take me!”

Sam and Dean had surfaced to see what was going on. “Jake, no!” Dean shouted, but Jake was pulled under by Peter. “Fuck!” he shouted before both he and Sam dived under again, still looking for Lucas. 

Sam resurfaced, shaking his head, and Andrea started screaming when Dean appeared, a lifeless Lucas clutched to him. He swam over to the dock where Devon and Andrea pulled Lucas up and began CPR. Within seconds, he started coughing and woke up, looking at them all in surprise. By the time EMS arrived, they had him sitting out front, wrapped in a blanket. Dean and Sam were soaked, and all they wanted to was to get into dry clothes.

Andrea gave them towels to sit on, and she jumped into the back of the ambulance to ride with Lucas. The three of them were silent as they watched them drive away and then headed into town to rent a motel room for the night. 

“I'm getting the shower first,” Dean said and headed into the bathroom.

“Why do you get it first?” Sam yelled at the shut door.

Dean peaked his head out, steam rolling out around him. “Because I’m oldest, and I said so.”

XXX

The next morning, they checked out and carried their things to the car. Dean had been silent and sullen all morning and threw his duffle bag into the back seat. 

Devon sat hers down easier and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Look, we’re not gonna save everybody,” she said quietly.

Dean kissed the top of her head. “I know.” He still wished he could have done something to help Jake, but it was a done deal. The sheriff’s office had drug and swept the lake and had found nothing of Jake’s body.

They heard Andrea call for them across the parking lot. “Sam, Dean! Devon! Wait!”

“Hey,” Dean greeted, and the trio walked over to Andrea and Lucas, who was carrying something in both hands.

“We’re glad we caught you,” she said. “We just, um, we made you lunch for the road. Lucas insisted on making the sandwiches himself.”

Lucas was carrying a large tray wrapped in Saran Wrap. “Can I give it to them now?” he asked, making them all smile.

Dean bent down with a grin. “Come on, Lucas, let’s load this in the car.” They walked to the rear of the Impala. He set the tray in the backseat and said to Lucas, “All right, if you’re gonna be talking now, this is a very important phrase, so I want you to repeat it one more time.”

Lucas grinned at him. “Zeppelin rules!”

“That’s right. Up high,” he said, holding his hand up, and Lucas slapped it.

Dean smiled at him. “You take care of your mom, okay?”

“How are you holding up?” Sam asked her.

She shrugged. “It’s just gonna take a long time to sort through everything, you know?”

Sam sighed. "Andrea, I’m sorry.”

She smiled at him. “You saved my son. I can’t ask for more than that.” She sighed. “Dad loved me. He loved Lucas. No matter what he did, I just have to hold onto that.”

They walked over to join Dean and Lucas at the car. Andrea reached up and kissed Dean on the cheek before hugging Devon and Sam. Dean looked at Devon with a panicked expression on his face but she just smiled at him and climbed into the middle of the front seat. “Sam, move your ass,” he said, rubbing at his head and walking to the driver’s side door. “We’re gonna run out of daylight before we hit the road.

The three of them waved goodbye to Andrea and Lucas as Dean was backing out of the parking lot. He cranked up the radio as they hit the open highway, and they enjoyed the crisp Wisconsin air that flowed through the windows, wondering what their next adventure would be.


	4. Phantom Traveller

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope if you are still reading this that you are enjoying it. I've been enjoying writing it! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Supernatural. Devon, though, is my creation, so please don't kidnap her!

Chapter 4 – Phantom Traveller

Dean opened his eyes as soon as he heard the motel room door open. It creaked quietly, and anyone who hadn’t been trained their entire life to look for danger everywhere would never have heard it, let alone been woken up by it. But the Winchesters were different. He slid his hand underneath his pillow and turned his head when the door shut, ready to spring into action.

“Morning, sunshine,” Sam said, three cups of coffee in his hands. 

Dean groaned and flopped back onto his pillow. “What time is it?”

“Uh, it’s about 5:45.”

“In the morning?” Dean asked in amazement that his brother had woken him up so early.

Sam nodded. “Yep.”

Devon groaned and pulled the covers up over her head. “Would you two shut the hell up?” she asked grumpily, her voice muffled.

Dean groaned and turned over to look at Sam. “Where does the day go? Did you get any sleep last night?”

Sam looked at the floor. “Yeah, I grabbed a couple of hours.”

“Liar,” Dean replied quickly, sitting up on the side of the bed. “’Cause I was up at three, and you were watching a damn George Foreman infomercial.”

Sam spread his arms, careful not to drop the breakfast he had picked up for them. “Hey, what can I say? It’s riveting TV.”

“When’s the last time you got a good night’s sleep?” Dean asked, his eyes still heavy with sleep and his hair sticking up in multiple directions.

He shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said, trying to sound cheery. “A little while, I guess. It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, it is,” Dean retorted.

Sam laughed. “Look, I appreciate your concern.”

“I’m not concerned about you,” Dean said quickly. “It’s your job to keep my ass alive, so I need you sharp.”

“I thought that was Devon’s job,” Sam said with a grin.

“Nope, my job is to keep his ass in line. Big difference,” she said from under the covers.

Dean rubbed at his face. “Seriously, are you still having nightmares about Jess?”

Sam sighed and walked over to sit on the bed opposite Dean. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “But it’s not just her. It’s everything. I just forgot, you know? This job… Man, it gets to you.” He handed Dean a cup of coffee and set Devon’s on the bedside table.

Dean took a long drink of the hot liquid, waiting for the caffeine to kick in. “You can’t let it. You can’t bring it home like that.”

“So, what? All this…it never keeps you up at night?” Sam asked in disbelief when Dean shook his head. “Never? You’re never afraid? You’re never afraid something will happen to Devon?”

He shook his head. “No, not really.”

Sam scoffed and leaned over, pulling a large Bowie knife out from under Dean’s pillow.

Dean hesitated for a moment. “That’s not fear,” he said, taking the knife from Sam. “That is precaution.”

“All right, whatever. I’m too tired to argue,” Sam said wearily.

They were interrupted by Dean’s cell phone ringing. Dean looked at the number, a perplexed look on his face as he did not recognize the number. He flipped the phone open and hit the speaker button. “Hello?”

A man’s voice came through. “Dean, it’s Jerry Panowski. You and your dad helped me out a couple years back.”

At first, Dean had made a face at Sam as he had no idea who this person was, but recognition lit his face suddenly. “Oh, right, yeah. Up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania. The poltergeist thing. It’s not back, is it?”

Jerry chuckled. “No, no. Thank God, no. But it’s something else, and well, uh, I think it could be a lot worse.”

Devon threw the covers back so she could listen better, her curiosity outweighing her need for sleep.

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“Can we talk in person?” Jerry asked him.

Dean grabbed the motel notepad and pen that sat on the bedside table. “Yeah, yeah sure. Where’re you located?”

He scribbled the address down and told Jerry they would see him the next day. They were currently in southern Wisconsin, but he knew he could make it to Pennsylvania in a day. He then jumped on the bed, jarring Devon and making her groan. She had pulled the covers back up over her head. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Time to wake up.” He tried to pull the blanket off of her, but she had it in a death grip.

“No,” she moaned in protest. “Go away! Just ten more minutes…”

He poked at her sides, making her squirm. “Sammy’s got you a nice, hot cup of coffee here and a box of donuts.”

She peeked one eye out at the mention of breakfast. “Gimme a donut first.”

He chuckled and set the box on the bed beside her before dragging himself into the bathroom to shower and shave. They had a long drive ahead of them.

XXX

The following day, they arrived at the Pittsburg airport where Jerry worked. After several phone calls to get them past security, he met them in a hallway and led them through a labyrinth of corridors. 

“Thanks for making the trip so quick. I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean, Devon and your dad really helped me out,” he said to Sam as they followed him. 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?”

Devon chuckled when a man they had just passed chimed in, “Poltergeist? I loved that movie.”

“Hey, nobody’s talking to you. Keep walking,” Jerry replied grumpily. “Damn right it was a poltergeist…practically tore our house apart. Tell you something – if it wasn’t for you guys and your dad, I probably wouldn’t be alive,” he said, turning to smile at Dean and Devon. “You dad said you were off at college. Is that right?” he then asked Sam.

“”Yeah, I was. I’m…taking some time off.”

They continued to follow him through a maintenance garage for airplanes, and Devon wondered how far they had to go. Last time they had helped Jerry, they had just met him at his house.

“Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time.”

Sam looked shocked. “He did?” he asked in disbelief.

Jerry turned to look at him and nodded. “Yeah, you bet he did.” He then turned to Dean. “Oh, hey, I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn’t. How’s he doing, anyway?”

Dean glanced at Devon and Sam before answering. “He’s, um, wrapped up in a job right now.”

Jerry chuckled. “Well, we’re missing the old man, but we get Sam. Even trade, huh?” he joked, turning to face them and grinning.

Sam smiled. “No, not by a long shot.”

“I got something I want you guys to hear,” Jerry said, leading them into his office. They sat in chairs across his desk while he pulled a file up on his computer. “I listened to this… Well, it sounded like it was up your alley. Normally, I wouldn’t have access to this. It’s the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia Flight 2485. It was one of ours.”

“The plane that crashed last week?” Devon asked him.

He nodded, and they listened as voices filled the air, talking indistinctly. They then heard an alarm blaring and sounds of the plane rapidly descending, along with more alarms and people yelling with panic. Then there was a low moaning sound that made Dean look at Devon with that knowing look.

Jerry stopped the recording. “Took off from here, crashed about 200 miles south. Now, they’re saying mechanical failure. The cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board; only seven got out alive. The pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert. He’s a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh…well, he’s pretty broken up about it, like it was his fault.”

"You don't think it was?" Sam asked.

Jerry shook his head resolutely. “No, I don’t.”

Sam looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “Jerry, we’re gonna need passenger manifests, a list of survivors –“

“Right…and any way we can take a look at the wreckage?” Dean interrupted.

"The other stuff is no problem, but the wreckage... The NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I’ve got that kind of clearance.”

Dean thought for a moment before nodding. “No problem.” He stood up, and Devon and Sam followed suit.

Jerry reached out to shake their hands. “You guys don’t know how much I appreciate this. Devon, I’ll email the other stuff to you today; I still have your email address. What are you gonna do about the wreckage?”

Devon bit her lower lip. “Probably best you don’t know. That way, you have full deniability.”

Sam grimaced, wondering just how illegal they were about to get.

An hour later, he found out when Dean and Devon came out of a local Copy Jack, fake IDs in their hands. “You guys were in there forever,” he complained.

Dean held up the new IDs, handing one to Sam. “You can’t rush perfection.”

Sam studied the badge. “Homeland Security? That’s pretty illegal, even for us.”

Dean shrugged and walked to his side of the car. “Yeah, well, it’s something new, you know? People haven’t seen it a thousand times. Besides, it was Devon’s idea.”

She smiled and shrugged at Sam’s accusing look.

"All right, so what do you got?” Dean asked when they had all climbed back into the Impala. Sam had been working on the voice recording while Devon and Dean had been making the IDs.

Sam sighed and opened his laptop. “Well, there’s definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder. Listen.” He pulled the audio program up and played the recording for them. It was nothing but high pitched static, but suddenly a creepy voice came through, clearly saying, “no survivors.”

“No survivors?” Dean said. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors.”

“Got me,” Sam said, shaking his head.

Dean thought for a moment. “So, what do you think? A haunted flight?”

Devon chewed on her lower lip. “There’s a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers.”

“Or remember Flight 401?” Sam piped in.

Dean nodded. “Right, the one that crashed. The airline salvaged its parts, put them in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights. Yep.”

Sam pressed his lips together. “Maybe we got a similar deal.”

Devon had printed off the information Jerry had emailed her while they had been in Copy Jack, and she flipped through the stack. “All right, so, survivors… Which one do you want to talk to first?”

“Third on the list – Max Jaffey,” Sam said immediately. He had read through the information on the laptop while they had been in the shop.

“Why him?” Dean asked.

“For one, he’s from around here. And two, if anyone saw anything weird, he did.”

Dean looked up at him. “What makes you say that?”

Sam smirked. “Well, I spoke to his mother, and she told me where to find him – Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital.”

“Sounds like he’s our guy,” Dean said and peeled out of the parking lot.

XXX

They checked in to the front office of the Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital, giving the receptionist their fake names and showing their new Homeland Security badges. She gave them an odd look as they were dressed in flannel shirts and jeans, but she buzzed them through. Since Max was a voluntary check-in, they did not have to be cleared by his treating physician. After several minutes, Max met them on the front grounds, and they followed him as he walked aimlessly.

“I don’t understand,” he said immediately. “I already spoke with Homeland Security.”

“Right. Some new information has come up,” Dean said. “So, if you could just answer a couple of questions…”

Devon walked beside Max. “Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything unusual?” she asked him.

Max limped along beside them, using a cane to steady himself. “Like what?”

“Strange lights, weird noises, maybe… Voices…” Dean prompted.

Max looked at him, a thoughtful look on his face. “No, nothing,” he finally said.

“Hmm. Mr. Joffey –“ Dean started.

“Jaffey,” Max interrupted him.

“Jaffey,” Dean corrected, “you checked yourself in here, right? Can I ask why?” Dean looked around, a look of confusion on his face.

Max looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “I was a little stressed. I survived a plane crash.”

Dean nodded. “Uh huh… And that’s what terrified you? That’s what you were afraid of?”

“I-I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Max stuttered nervously.

"I think maybe you did see something up there. We need to know what,” Dean replied, leaning toward Max and glancing at Sam and Devon.

Max turned to look at him. “No. No, I was delusional…seeing things.”

“He was seeing things,” Dean repeated, turning to look at Sam.

Sam stared at him for a moment before turning to Max. “It’s okay,” he said in that soft voice he often used to put people at ease. “Then just tell us what you thought you saw, please.”

Max sighed. “There was…this…man… And, uh, he had these eyes… These, uh…black eyes. And I saw him… Uh, I thought I saw him…” He trailed off.

“What?” Devon asked him softly.

“He opened the emergency exit.” Max looked at them. “But that’s impossible,right? I mean, I looked it up. There’s something like two tons of pressure on that door.”

They were all silent for a moment. “This man…did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly?” Sam asked. “It would look something like a mirage.”

Max stared at him. “What are you, nuts? He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me.”

The three of them looked at each other before they all stood up. “Mr. Jaffey, thank you for your time. If you think of anything else, please don’t hesitate to call us,” Devon said as they left. They hurried back to the Impala and pulled out the passenger manifest Jerry had sent them to see who was sitting in that seat.

XXX

They pulled up in front of a charming Craftsman-style house with a landscaped yard. “Here we are…George Phelps, seat 20C,” Sam said.

Dean leaned over to look at the house. “Man, I don’t care how strong you are. Even yoked up on PCP or some shit, no way you can open up an emergency door during a flight,” he said, getting out of the car and leaning against the roof.

"Not if your human," Devon said quietly.

Sam turned to look at them. “Maybe this guy George was something else…some kind of creature, maybe, in human form.”

Dean pointed to the house. “Does that look like a creature’s lair to you?”

Sam sighed, and they followed him to the front door. It was answered by a slender woman in her early fifties who introduced herself as George’s wife. They showed her their fake Homeland Security badges, and she led them into the living room, engaging in some small talk.

“This is your late husband?” Sam asked, picking up a framed photo of a middle-aged man off of a side table.

She nodded. “Yes, that was my George.”

“And you said he was a…dentist?” Dean asked.

“Mm hmm. He was headed to a convention in Denver. Do you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that…” Her eyes filled with tears.

“We are so sorry for your loss,” Devon said, sitting on the couch next to her. “How long were you married?”

She smiled softly. “Thirteen years.”

Sam leaned forward. “In all that time, did you ever notice anything…strange about him, anything out of the ordinary?”

Mrs. Phelps looked at them confused. “Well…he had acid reflux, if that’s what you mean…”

Dean and Sam looked at each other, and they stood, Devon following them as they headed toward the door. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Phelps. We’ll be in touch,” Sam said, and they walked back to the car. “It goes without saying. It just doesn’t make any sense,” he said when they were outside.

“A middle-aged dentist with an ulcer isn’t exactly evil personified,” Dean said sarcastically. “What we need to do is get inside that NTSB warehouse, check out the wreckage.”

“Okay,” Sam agreed. “But if we’re gonna go that route, we’d better look the part.” They got into the car, and Sam directed Dean to head downtown where they found a men’s clothing store.

Devon pulled a black suit off the rack and held it up to Dean, her eyebrows raised.

He shook his head. “No…huh uh. I’m not wearing that monkey suit.”

She pushed him toward the dressing rooms. “Yes, you are. This is what government agents wear, and you have to look the part.”

He grabbed the suit from her like a petulant child and shut the dressing room door hard. “How come you don’t have to dress up?” he muttered.

Devon laughed. “Because I’m gonna be driving the getaway car.”

After half an hour of picking out accessories, such as a tie and dress shoes, the three of them left the store, the boys wearing their new suits.

Dean kept tugging on his tie. “Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers,” he complained. 

Sam readjusted his collar. “No, you don’t. You look more like a seventh grader at his first dance.”

“I hate this thing,” Dean whined, looking down and scowling at the suit.

“Hey, you want into that warehouse or not?” Devon asked him, tossing the bag with their other clothes into the backseat. “Besides, you look pretty fucking hot.” She looked at him appraisingly from head to toe.

He glared at her skeptically.

She nodded, leaning up and pecking him on the lips as she climbed into the car. “Remember, a man in a nice suit does for women what lingerie does for men.”

He looked at Sam over the roof of the car and shrugged. Maybe the suit wouldn’t be so bad. They headed toward the NTSB warehouse that the plane wreckage was being stored in. Devon waited in the car while the boys went inside. She would be waiting with the engine running, just in case things went sour. They flashed their badges at the security guard who looked them over, and Dean smirked when they were waved through.

They walked into a large hanger where the burned and charred remains of the plane were housed. Dean pulled a handheld device out of his pocket and put an earbud in his ear.

“What’s that?” Sam asked him.

“It’s an EMF meter. It reads electromagnetic frequencies.”

Sam sighed. “Yeah, I know what an EMF meter is, but why does that one look like a busted up Walkman?”

Dean grinned at him proudly. “’Cause that’s what I made it out of. It’s homemade.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Sam said patronizingly. 

Dean frowned at him and walked away. He was proud of his ingenuity. They walked around, Dean sweeping his EMF meter around, which wasn’t registering anything until they walked past the emergency exit door. “Check out the emergency door handle. What is this stuff?” he asked, scraping at a yellowish powder that was adhered to the handle.

Sam looked at it closely. “One way to find out,” he said, pulling a pocketknife out and scraping some of it into a small container.

Dean's phone suddenly rang once and stopped. They looked at each other and ran toward the exit door. That was Devon’s signal that they needed to shag ass out of there. They ran outside and begin walking quickly back toward the parking lot, trying not to look suspicious. Suddenly, an alarm begin blaring, and they sprinted toward the gate that was locked. Dean tossed his suit jacket up over the barbed wire, and they both scaled the gate, landing on the other side. He grabbed his jacket, and they ran toward the Impala, where Devon was waiting with the motor running. “These monkey suits do come in handy,” he joked as they ran toward the car.

They dived into the car, and Devon sped out of the parking lot before they could be detained. Once they were out on the highway, they all breathed a sigh of relief.

“Did you find anything?” she asked, repeatedly checking the rearview mirror.

Sam pulled out the container with the yellow stuff in it. “Just this. It was stuck on the emergency door handle.”

She held it up and stared at it, driving toward the airport. “Hopefully Jerry knows what it is.”

Dean called Jerry when they were pulling into the parking lot, and he met them up front, escorting them back to his office. They gave him the container, and he smeared some on a glass slide and slid it under a microscope.

“Huh… This stuff is covered in sulfur,” he said, looking up at them. 

“You’re sure?” Sam asked.

Jerry stepped back. "Take a look for yourself. Now, if you will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire,” he said as they heard a fight erupt outside the room.

Devon looked into the microscope. “Hmm… Not too many things leave behind a sulfuric residue,” she said. 

“Demonic possession?” Sam asked.

Dean nodded. “That would explain how a mortal man would have the strength to open up an emergency hatch.”

"If the guy was possessed, it’s possible,” Devon agreed, stepping back so he could look at the slide.

He looked into the eyepiece and stood up. “This goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. It’s one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?”

“Either of you ever hear of something like this before?” Sam asked.

“Never,” they both said.

They found Jerry and told him they were going back to their motel room to think and left the airport. When they got to the motel, Sam pulled his laptop out and began searching the Internet for information on demonic possession while Devon and Dean scanned through John’s journal and some books on the occult Devon had collected over the years.

“So, every religion in every world culture has the concept of demons and demonic possession, right? Christian, Native American, Hindu… You name it,” Sam said, looking up from the screen.

Dean looked up at him. "Yeah, but none of them describe anything like this.”

“Well, that’s not exactly true,” Sam said. “According to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and man-made. One causes earthquakes, another causes disease.”

“And this one causes plane crashes?” Devon asked in horror. 

Dean sighed and stood up. "All right, so, what? We have a demon that’s evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?”

Sam stared at the computer screen. “Yeah. You know, who knows how many planes it’s brought down before this one.” He looked at Dean who was shaking his head. “What?”

“I don’t know, man. This isn’t our normal gig. I mean…demons…they don’t want anything – just death and destruction for its own sake. And this is big. I wish Dad was here,” he said, rubbing the top of his head.

“Yeah, me too,” Sam agreed quietly.

Dean's cell phone rang at that moment. “Hello? Oh, hey, Jerry.” Devon and Sam stared at him as a look of surprise came across his face. “Jerry, I’m sorry. What happened? Where’d this happen? Hang in there, all right? We’ll catch up with you soon.” He shut the phone.

“Another crash?” Devon asked him.

“Yeah, Chuck Lambert’s dead. Let’s go.”

“Where?” Sam asked, standing up. 

Dean shook his head. “Nazareth.”

They all got back into the car and headed toward Nazareth. When they were several miles away, they saw a column of thick, black smoke rising into the sky. They flashed their fake badges at the local police that were on scene and were waved through with no fuss. While inspecting the wreckage, they found more of the yellow residue and collected some more before heading back to see Jerry. When they were in his office, he smeared some on a slide and looked at it under the microscope again. 

“Sulfur?” Dean asked him.

Jerry looked at him and nodded. 

Dean sighed. “Well, that’s great. All right, that’s two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him.”

Sam was sitting behind Jerry’s desk. “With all due respect to Chuck, if that’s the case, that would be good news.”

“What’s the bad news?” Devon asked warily.

Sam sighed. “Chuck’s plane went down exactly forty minutes into flight. And get this – so did Flight 2485.”

Jerry looked at them all. “Forty minutes? What does that mean?”

Dean looked at him. “It’s biblical numerology. Noah’s ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death.”

“I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in,” Sam said.

“Any survivors?” Devon asked.

"No,” Sam answered, shaking his head. “Or not until now, at least. Not until Flight 2485, for some reason. And the cockpit voice recorder… Remember what the EVP said?”

Dean looked at him in horror. “’No survivors.’” The three of them looked at each other. “It’s going after all the survivors. It’s trying to finish the job. Son of a bitch.”

Devon pulled out the manifest information Jerry had given them. “We have to contact everyone who survived.”

"And tell them what?” Dean asked. “Don’t fly again because the demon that crashed the plane is out to get you?”

She shrugged. “Well, what do you suggest? We gotta do something.”

Sam stood up. “I’ll do it. Jerry, we’ll be in touch.”

They all quickly walked back to the car, Sam flipping through the manifest and starting to call the survivors. Devon and Dean looked at him impressed as he impersonated an United Britannia Airline employee who was conducting a survey. He hung up from the last survivor he had been able to contact. “That takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They’re not flying anytime soon.”

“Our only wildcard is the flight attendant, Amanda Walker,” Dean said.

“Right. Her sister, Karen, said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight. It’s her first night back on the job,” Sam said, looking over at Dean.

Dean sighed. “That sounds like just our luck.”

Devon looked at the map she had spread out in her lap. “That’s a five hour drive, even with you behind the wheel.

He nodded. “Call Amanda’s cell phone again. See if we can’t head her off at the pass.”

Sam scratched his head. "I already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cellphone off. God, we’re never gonna make it.”

“We’ll make it,” Dean said determinedly and pressed down on the accelerator. Devon just prayed they wouldn’t get pulled over.

Sure enough, they arrived at the Indianapolis airport at half past seven. Dean parked in the first available spot they found, and the three of them jogged into the terminal. They checked the departure screen.

“Right there,” Sam said, pointing. “They’re boarding in thirty minutes.”

“Okay,” Dean said. “We still have some cards to play. We need to find a phone.” He ran over to a white courtesy phone and picked it up. “Hi. Gate Thirteen. I’m trying to contact Amanda Walker. She’s a flight attendant on flight, um…424.”

They heard the overhead page for Amanda and waited for her to pick up. Sam and Devon had their faces pressed up against Dean so they could hear the conversation.

“This is Amanda Walker.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “Ms. Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Hetfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here.”

“Karen?” she asked in surprise. 

“Nothing serious – just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so –“

She interrupted him. "That’s impossible. I just got off the phone with her.”

Dean stood there for a moment. “You what?” he finally asked.

“Five minutes ago. She’s at her house cramming for a final. Who is this?”

“Uh, well…there must be some mistake,” Dean said, trying to recover. 

“And how would you even know I was here? Is this one of Vince’s friends?” she asked, her tone changing to aggravation.

Dean decided to go with it. “Guilty as charged.”

She sighed. “Wow. This is unbelievable.”

“He’s really sorry,” Dean said, cringing.

“Well, you tell him to mind his own business and stay out of my life, okay?”

Dean tried again. “Yes, but he really needs to see you tonight, so –“

She cut him off. “No, I’m sorry. It’s too late.”

“Don’t be like that,” Dean said, trying to sound jovial. “Come on. The guy’s a mess. Really. It’s pathetic.”

Amanda paused. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah.”

She sighed. “Look, I’ve gotta go. Tell him to call me when I land.”

“No, no. Wait, Amanda!” Dean yelled, but she had hung the phone up. “Shit! Damn it! So close!” he muttered, pacing back and forth.

Sam thought for a moment. “All right, it’s time for plan B. We’re getting on that plane.”

Devon nodded, but Dean stopped him. “Now, just hold on a second.”

“Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we’re right, that plane is gonna crash.”

“I know!” Dean said, a distressed look on his face.

Sam kept on. “We’re getting on the plane, and we need to find that demon and exorcise it. Look, Devon and I will get the tickets. You just go get whatever you can out of the trunk, whatever will make it through security. Meet us back here in five minutes.”

Dean just stood there and stared at them.

“Dean, are you okay?” Devon asked, worried at how pale he had gotten.

He looked at them for a moment. “No, not really,” he finally said. 

"What? What’s wrong?” Sam asked hurriedly.

Dean hesitated. “Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh…” He waved his hand in the air.

“Flying?” Sam asked in disbelief. Devon just stared at him, unwilling to believe Dean Winchester was afraid of anything.

"It's never really been an issue until now,” he said, slightly panicked. 

Sam continued to stare at him. “You’re joking, right?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” he asked in a rush. “Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?”

“All right,” Devon said, looking between them both. “Sam and I’ll go.”

Dean looked at her like she was crazy. “What?”

She nodded. “Yeah. We’ll do this one on our own.” Sam nodded in agreement.

“What are you, nuts? You said it yourself, the plane’s gonna crash!”

Sam stepped closer to him. “Look, we can all do this together, or Devon and I can do this by ourselves. I’m not seeing a third option here.”

Dean’s face was scrunched up. “C-come on!” he finally said. “Really? Man…” He fidgeted for a few seconds before speaking. “Fine! I’ll go!”

Sam and Devon sprinted to the ticket counter and bought three tickets. They rushed through security and ran to gate thirteen, boarding just a few minutes before takeoff. They were in the middle aisle, and Dean was intently reading the safety card in the pocket of the seat in front of him.

Sam leaned over Devon to talk to him. “Just try to relax.”

“Just try to shut up,” he retorted.

The plane began taxing down the runway, and Dean tensed in his seat. Devon reached over and threaded her fingers through his, squeezing gently. “Just hold my hand and breathe,” she said quietly.

He felt his stomach drop when the plane left the ground and got a look of panic when the landing gear retracted. He laid his head back and picked a spot to stare at and began humming to himself.

Sam leaned over again. “You’re humming Metallica?”

“Calms me down,” he said quickly, continuing to stare straight ahead. 

Devon smiled and squeezed his hand again. She was totally unaccustomed to seeing Dean scared of anything.

Sam scoffed. “Look, man, I get you’re nervous, all right? But you got to stay focused.”

Dean glanced over at him. “Okay.”

“I mean, we got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down – or whoever it’s possessing, anyway – and perform a full-on exorcism,” Sam said quietly.

“Yeah, on a crowded plane. That’s gonna be easy,” Dean said sarcastically.

"Just take it one step at a time, all right?" Sam said softly. "Now, who is it possessing?”

Dean swallowed and tried to focus. “Well, it’s usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through, somebody with an addiction or emotional distress.”

“This is Amanda’s first flight after the crash,” Devon said, looking around for the flight attendant. “If I were her, I’d be pretty messed up.”

Dean nodded. “Mm hmm. Excuse me,” he said to a passing flight attendant. “Are you Amanda?”

She shook her head, smiling at him. “No, I’m not.”

He smiled shakily at her. “Oh, my mistake.” He looked toward the back and saw another blonde standing there. “All right, well, that’s gotta be Amanda back there, so I’ll go talk to her, and uh, I’ll get a read on her mental state,” he said nervously.

"What if she’s already possessed?” Sam asked.

Dean thought for a moment. “There’s ways to test that.” He dug through his duffel bag and pulled out a bottle. “I brought holy water.”

Sam grabbed the bottle from him. “No. I think we can go more subtle. If she’s possessed, she’ll flinch at the name of God.”

Dean nodded. “Oh, nice.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up, looking toward the back of the plane. He turned when Sam spoke to him. 

“Say it in Latin,” Sam said.

"I know.” He started to walk to the back.

“Hey!” Sam called again.

Dean turned around and walked back. “What?” he asked, aggravated.

“Uh, in Latin, it’s ‘Christo.’”

“Dude, I know! I’m not an idiot!” He walked off toward who he figured was Amanda.

Devon pulled the journal out, and she and Sam begin to look through it while Dean went to turn on the charm. She turned to watch Dean, and she giggled when the plane shuddered with some turbulence and he smacked the back of a seat in aggravation. He really was afraid to fly.

Dean walked back to the curtain. “Hi,” he said to the flight attendant.

"Hi, can I help you with something?” she asked in a friendly tone.

He walked over to stand at the end of the beverage cart. “Oh, no. I’m just a bit of an uneasy flier. It makes me feel better to walk around a little bit.”

She continued to fix drinks. “Oh, it happens to the best of us.”

He gave her the Winchester smile. “Of course, you being a stewardess, I guess flying comes easy to you.”

She laughed. “You’d be surprised.”

He looked at her in shock. “Really? You’re a nervous flier?”

She smiled at him. “Yeah, maybe – a little bit.”

“How is it that, being a stewardess, you’re scared to fly?”

She continued to fix cups and napkins. “Kind of a long story.”

He nodded. “Right. Sorry for asking.”

She waved him off. “It’s okay.”

“You ever consider other employment?”

She thought for a moment. “No. Look, everybody’s scared of something. I just, uh…I’m not gonna let it hold me back, so…” She smiled at him.

Dean nodded and stood there for a moment. “Christo,” he said softly.

She looked up at him. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?” she asked.

He hesitated and smiled nervously. “Uh, Christo?”

She looked at him confused. “I-I didn’t… I didn’t…”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Never mind.” He turned to walk back to his seat. He flopped down beside Devon and sighed. “Well, she’s got to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet.”

Sam leaned forward. “You said ‘Christo?’ And?” he asked when Dean nodded.

Dean shook his head. “There’s no demon in her. There’s no demon getting in her.”

Devon sighed. “So, if it’s on the plane, it can be anyone…anywhere.” She grimaced when Dean clutched her hand suddenly while another burst of turbulence shook the plane.

“Come on! That can’t be normal!” he said loudly.

“Hey, hey, it's just a little turbulence,” Sam said softly, trying to calm him down. 

He looked at him as if he were crazy. “Sam, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I’m fucking four!”

Sam looked at him sternly. “You need to calm down.”

“Well, I’m sorry! I can’t!” he shouted in a whisper. Devon reached over and squeezed his hand.

“Yes, you can,” Sam said quietly.

Dean glared at him. “Dude, stow the touchy-freely, self-help yoga shit. It’s not helping!”

Sam leaned in close to him, squishing Devon against her seat. "Listen, if your panicked, you’re wide open to demonic possession, so you need to calm yourself down right now.”

Dean looked at him in sudden understanding and began to breathe slowly.

“Good,” Sam said. “Now, we found an exorcism in here that we think is gonna work – the Ritual Romano.” He opened John’s journal to a page he had earmarked.

“What do we have to do?” Dean asked, calmer now than earlier.

Devon looked at the page. “It’s two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim’s body. It makes it manifest, which makes it more powerful.”

Dean stared at her in surprise. “More powerful? How?”

She sighed. "Well, it doesn’t need to possess someone anymore. It can just wreck havoc on its own.”

“Oh. And why is that a good thing?” he demanded.

Sam leaned forward. “Well, because the second part sends the bastard back to hell once and for all.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Well, first thing’s first – we gotta find the damn thing.” He pulled his homemade EMF detector out of his inner jacket pocket. “Dev, you stay here and read as much as you can about this ritual. We’ll see if we can figure out who it is.” He got up and began to walk up the aisle, trying to discreetly wave the EMF detector around, the earbud in his ear. He made it to the front of the plane without anyone setting the alarm off.

Suddenly, Sam grabbed his shoulder, making him jump. “Dammit, Sam! Don’t do that!”

"Anything?" he asked hurriedly.

“No, nothing. How much time we got?”

Sam sighed. “Fifteen minutes. Maybe we missed somebody.”

“Maybe the thing’s just not on the plane.”

He shook his head. "You believe that?”

Dean grinned weakly. “Well, I will if you will.”

Suddenly, his EMF meter began to light up and make a rapid clicking sound. They both looked up to see the copilot step out of the lavatory.

“What? What is it?” Sam asked him urgently.

Dean stared at the man and said softly, “Christo.”

The copilot flinched and turned to glare at them, his eyes solid black, before he stepped into the cockpit and shut the door. The boys looked at each other and rushed back to their seats.

“It’s the copilot,” Dean said hurriedly to Devon. 

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “So, what do we do?”

He motioned for her to get up. “We’re gonna have to get Amanda to help us.”

Sam sighed and headed toward the back of the plane. “She’s not gonna believe this.”

“Twelve minutes, dude,” Dean said, rushing them all toward the end of the aisle. They burst through the curtain to see Amanda turn toward them with a smile. 

“Oh, hi!” she said, recognizing Dean from earlier. “Flight’s not too bumpy for you, I hope.”

He smiled tightly at her. “Actually, that’s kind of what we need to talk to you about.”

She looked at him confused. “Um, okay. What can I do for you?”

He looked at Devon and Sam for a second before turning back to her. “Okay, this is gonna sound nuts, but we just don’t have time for the whole ‘the truth is out there’ speech right now.”

Sam stopped him. “Look, we know you were on Flight 2485.”

Amanda stared at them for a moment. “Who are you guys?”

“We’ve spoken to some other survivors. We know something brought down that plane, and it wasn’t mechanical failure.”

Dean piped in. “We need your help because we need to stop it from happening again here now.”

She looked down. “I’m sorry. I-I’m very busy.” She started to walk past them, but Dean grabbed her shoulders to stop her.

“Whoa, whoa. Wait a second. We’re not gonna hurt you, okay?”

Devon stepped in front of him and looked her in the eye. “Listen to me. The pilot from 2485, Chuck Lambert…he’s dead.”

Amanda stared at her in shock. “What? Chuck is dead?”

Devon nodded. “He died in a plane crash. Now that’s two plane crashes in two months. That doesn’t strike you as strange?”

Sam leaned forward. “There was something wrong with 2485. Now, maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn’t, but there’s something wrong with this flight, too.”

“Amanda, you have to believe us,” Dean said urgently. They all looked at her intently.

After a few seconds, she spoke. “On…on 2485, there was this man. He…had these eyes.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what we’re talking about,” Sam said quickly. 

“Well, I don’t understand. What are you asking me to do?”

“Get the copilot. We need you to bring him back here,” Dean said.

She shook her head in confusion. “Why? What does he have to do with anything?”

Dean shook his head. “Don’t have time to explain. We just need to talk to him.” He was getting more desperate by the minute. 

"Well, how am I supposed to go into the cockpit and get the copilot –?”

Sam interrupted her. “Whatever it takes. Tell him there’s something broken back here, whatever will get him out of that cockpit.”

“Do you know that I could lose my job if you –“

Dean looked at her pleadingly. “You’re gonna lose a lot more if you don’t help us out!”

She looked at them all for a moment. "Okay," she finally said softly and walked toward the cockpit. They all watched as she knocked on the door, and it was answered by the copilot. After exchanging a few words, he walked out and shut the door behind him, following her down the aisle. They got ready, Devon with the journal opened to the exorcism, Sam ready with the holy water and Dean prepared to be the muscle that held him down.

“Yeah, what’s the problem?” the copilot asked as he walked through the curtain, but before he could say anything else, Dean punched him in the jaw, knocking him down. He then scrambled down and picked the man up, slamming him down on the ground. 

Amanda stood behind them as Dean and Sam wrestled the copilot down, putting a piece of duct tape over his mouth. “What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him,” she said in horror.

“We are gonna talk to him,” Sam said as he doused him in holy water. They all stared as it burnt holes in his shirt and began to smoke and sizzle.

“Oh, my God. What’s wrong with him?” Amanda asked, panicked.

Devon turned to her. “Look, we need you calm. We need you outside the curtain. Don’t let anybody in, okay. Can you do that?”

“Okay,” she said, her voice shaking, and she left the three of them with the copilot to stand guard.

Dean punched him again while the man was fighting against him. "Sam, help me! Hurry up, Devon. I don’t know how much longer I can hold him.”

Sam sprayed him with holy water again while Devon began reciting the exorcism in Latin. The water continued to smoke and sizzle on his skin while he fought against the hold Dean had him in. Suddenly, the possessed man knocked the bottle of holy water from Sam’s hands and kicked Dean, freeing himself and ripping the tape off of his mouth. Devon kept reading while Dean and Sam wrestled with him.

The copilot looked at Sam and said, “I know what happened to your girlfriend! She must have died screaming! Even now, she’s burning!”

Devon just stared at him in horror while Sam sat in shock. Dean punched the copilot in the face again. “Sam, help me! Dev, read!” he growled out.

Sam gritted his teeth and leaned over, trying to help Dean keep a hold of him while Devon continued to recite. They then stared in horror as a thick, black smoke came pouring out of the man’s mouth and flew up into a vent. The copilot stopped fighting them and went limp.

“Where’d he go?” Sam asked them.

Dean pointed at the vent. “He’s in the plane. Hurry up, Devon. We gotta finish it!”

She nodded but dropped the journal when the plane suddenly lost altitude and began falling. The lights all went off, and the oxygen masks dropped down while people screamed. They all fell against the walls, and she yelled when the journal went sliding up underneath the seats. “Sam!”

Alarms were blaring, and Sam dived into the aisle, stretching to reach the journal where it had slid. Dean was pinned against the emergency exit from the force and was screaming. Out of everything he had faced, he found it ironic that he would be killed in a plane crash.

“Got it!” Sam yelled, grabbing the journal and flipping to the right page. He finished the ritual, and suddenly, the plane stabilized. The shaking stopped, and the lights came back on while the pilot got full control once again. Everyone on the plane breathed a huge sigh of relief. 

Dean wrapped his arms around Devon and dropped his forehead to the top of her head, kissing it lightly. He really had thought this was it. They pulled themselves up and walked back to the aisle where Sam was standing, breathing heavily. They all shared a look, and the three of them stumbled back to their seats. 

Since they had only been in the air for forty minutes, the pilot turned around and returned them to the Indianapolis airport. Their legs were rubbery when they disembarked down the jetway and stared around at all of the emergency personnel that were there. They stood and watched as the copilot was interviewed while he sat in a wheelchair. They could overhear him say he didn’t remember anything other than walking into the airport earlier. They then looked and saw Amanda giving her statement to the FBI, and they nodded as she mouthed ‘thank you’ to them.

“Let’s get out of here,” Dean said, heading toward the exit. “You okay?” he asked Sam who hadn’t said a word. 

Sam stopped and turned to face him. “Dean, it…it knew about Jessica.”

Dean sighed. “Sam, these things…t-they read minds. They lie. All right? That’s all it was.”

Sam stared at him for a moment, his jaw set. “Yeah.” 

“Come on,” Dean said again, walking toward the door, Devon’s hand firmly in his as he pulled her along.

She crawled into the backseat and stretched out as Dean headed back to Pennsylvania. They had left in such a hurry that they had to return to get their stuff from their motel room.

XXX

The next day, they stopped by the airport to say goodbye to Jerry.

“Nobody knows what you all did, but I do,” he said. “A lot of people could have been killed. Your dad’s gonna be real proud.” He reached out to shake their hands. 

“We’ll see you around, Jerry,” Sam said.

“You know, Jerry,” Dean called. “I meant to ask you. How did you get my cellphone number, anyway? I’ve only had it for like six months.”

“Your dad gave it to me.” 

They all stared at him in shock. “When did you talk to him?” Devon asked excitedly.

"I didn’t exactly talk to him, but I called his number. His voice message said to give you a call. Thanks again.” He turned and walked off.

They all looked at each other as they climbed back into the car. Once they were a bit down the road, Dean pulled over, and they got out and sat on the trunk.

“This doesn’t make any sense, man,” Sam said, confused. “I’ve called Dad’s number like fifty times. It’s been out of service.”

Dean dialed the number and put the phone on speaker. They all listened as John’s voice said, “This is John Winchester. I can’t be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean – 785-555-0179. He can help.”

They all sat in silence for several minutes before Sam got off the trunk and stomped to the passenger side, slamming his door. 

"Great," Dean muttered, and he helped Devon slide down to the ground. They both got back into the car, and Dean pulled out onto the highway. They knew they would find their next job soon.


	5. Bloody Mary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone is having a lovely Christmas season! Here is the next chapter! Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Supernatural, except I did get a Supernatural keychain as a Christmas present! This is all for my own enjoyment…

Dean and Devon were reading an obituary he had circled in a local paper while Sam slept in the seat next to them. He hadn’t slept more than a few hours the past few nights, so they wanted to let him sleep as long as they could. But when he began jerking and yelling out, Dean decided to wake him up.

“Sam! Wake up!” he shouted, shaking Sam’s shoulder. 

Sam jerked awake and sat up straighter in the seat. He looked around for a few moments, trying to reorient himself. “I take it I was having a nightmare?” he asked.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, another one.”

“Hey, at least I got some sleep,” Sam joked half-heartedly.

Dean didn’t smile. “Hey, you know, sooner or later, we’re gonna talk about this.”

Sam looked around. “Are we here?”

Devon nodded. “Yep. Welcome to Toledo, Ohio.” She handed the newspaper to Sam.

He looked at the obituary of Steven Shoemaker. “So, what do you think happened to this guy?”

"That’s what we’re gonna find out,” Dean said, turning in his seat to put John’s journal in the backseat. “Let’s go.”

They walked into the local hospital and followed the signs that directed them to the morgue. When they walked in, they were greeted by an attendant. The doctor’s desk was empty.

"Hey," the attendant greeted them in a bored voice.

Dean smiled at him. “Hey.”

“Can I help you?” the man asked expectantly.

“Yeah, we’re the…med students,” Dean said.

The attendant stared at them. “Sorry?”

Dean looked surprised. “Oh, Dr. Fliglavitch didn’t tell you? We talked to him on the phone. We’re from Ohio State. He’s supposed to show us the Shoemaker corpse. It’s for our paper.”

Devon smiled at the man, trying to look like an interested medical student. She wasn’t sure if she would ever be good at the lying and subterfuge part of the job.

“Well, I’m sorry; he’s at lunch.” He smiled at them patronizingly.

“Oh, well, he said, uh… Oh, well, you know, it doesn’t matter. You don’t mind showing us the body, do you?” Dean asked in a friendly voice.

The attendant shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t. Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want.”

Dean made a face. “An hour? We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then.” He looked at Sam and Devon. “Look, man, this paper’s like half our grade, so if you don’t mind helping us out?”

“Oh, look, man,” the attendant said, getting angry, “no.”

Dean smiled and turned away. “I’m gonna hit him in his fucking face, I swear,” he muttered to Devon and Sam.

Sam pushed Dean behind him and looked at the attendant. He smiled and pulled out his wallet, pulling several twenty dollar bills out and laying them on the desk. Dean groaned under his breath when he saw just how much Sam was bribing the man with. 

The morgue attendant picked up the cash and stood up. “Follow me.”

When he walked away, Dean grabbed Sam’s sleeve. “Dude, I earned that money.”

“You won it in a poker game,” Sam said frustrated.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, still not seeing what the problem was.

Devon elbowed them both. “Guys,” she muttered under her breath before following the attendant. The boys followed her, continuing to glare at each other. “Now the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding,” she said to the attendant when he stopped at a drape-covered body on a metal gurney. She flashed a smile at him, hoping she could flirt some more information out of him instead of having to buy it.

He leaned against the head of the gurney and smirked at her. “More than that. They practically liquified.” He pulled the sheet back to expose Shoemaker’s head.

The three of them looked at the body in front of them. His eye sockets were empty.

Dean swallowed before speaking. “Any sign of a struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?”

“Nope. Besides the daughter, he was all alone.”

"What's the official cause of death?” Sam asked.

The attendant sighed. “Doc’s not sure. He’s thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm. Something burst up in there, that’s for sure.” He grinned at Devon.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

He looked at them with an excited look. “Intense cerebral bleeding. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

Devon looked down at the man's face, internally cringing at the empty, bloody eye sockets staring back at them blankly. “But the eyes…. What would cause something like that?”

“Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims.” He grinned at her again.

Dean growled under his breath. “Yeah, you ever see exploding eyeballs?” he asked grouchily. 

“That’s a first for me. But, hey, I’m not the doctor.”

“Think we could take a look at that police report?” Dean asked sharply. “You know, for our paper?”

The attendant looked at him and then looked at Devon. “I’m not really supposed to show you that.”

She stepped a little closer to him and smiled up at him. “Please? It would really help.”

He licked his lips and sighed. “All right, it’s over here.” He led them over to another desk and rifled through a small stack of papers before pulling one out and handing it to her. She read it quickly while the boys read over her shoulders. After reading the entire thing, she handed it back to him. 

“Thank you very much, you’ve been a big help,” she said with a smile and turned to walk out of the morgue. She tried to walk a little seductively to give the man a little show since he had just broken a dozen rules to show them the corpse, but she just felt ridiculous. 

Dean grumbled as they turned into the hall. "Thank you very much, you’ve been a big help,” he mimicked, scowling at her. “I thought his eyeballs were gonna explode if he looked at your ass any harder.”

She sighed. “Dean, it was either that or you could pay out more of your hard-earned money.”

“It might not be one of ours,” Sam said as they walked back to the car, trying to distract Dean. “Might just be some freak medical thing.”

Dean sighed. "How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?”

“Uh, almost never,” Sam agreed with a sigh.

"Exactly.”

“All right, let’s go talk to the daughter,” Sam said, and they drove to the Shoemakers’ home where the wake was being held.

Devon walked between both brothers, feeling very small. “Guys, I feel very underdressed,” she muttered, self-consciously tugging at her flannel shirt and jeans. They looked around at the people surrounding them who were all dressed in appropriate funeral attire.

Dean shrugged and asked the someone where they could find Shoemaker’s daughter. An elderly man led them outside and pointed her out. They walked over to a young woman in a black dress who was sitting on a bench with a friend. Another girl was sitting in a chair, and Devon couldn’t help but shake her head when the woman’s mouth literally fell open when she saw the Winchesters. They often had that effect on women.

"You must be Donna, right?” he asked the girl on the bench. 

She looked at them confused. “Yeah.”

Sam smiled at her. “Hi, uh…we’re really sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Sam, this is Dean and Devon. We worked with your dad,” he said in that soft voice that could make anyone do anything at anytime.

The girls looked at each other, confused. “You did?” Donna asked surprised.

Dean shook his head in sympathy. “Yeah, this whole thing… I mean, a stroke…”

The friend who was sitting beside Donna spoke up. “I don’t think she really wants to talk about this right now.”

"It’s okay; I’m okay,” Donna said to her. 

“Were there ever any symptoms?” Dean asked. “Dizziness, migraines?”

Donna shook her head. “No.”

A younger girl that was sitting behind her turned around. “That’s because it wasn’t a stroke,” she said firmly. 

“Lily, don’t say that,” Donna said to her. 

“What?” Sam asked.

Donna looked up at him. “I’m sorry, she’s just upset.”

Lily shook her head. “No, it happened because of me.”

“Sweetie, it didn’t.”

Sam walked over to her and leaned down. “Lily, why would you say something like that?”

She looked at Sam. “Right before he died, I said it.”

“You said what?”

“Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror. She took his eyes. That’s what she does,” Lily said to him.

Donna stopped her. “That’s not why Dad died. This isn’t your fault.”

"I think your sister's right, Lily," Dean said. "There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn’t say it, did he?”

Lily looked up at him. “No, I don’t think so.”

He smiled at her. “Then see? This wasn’t your fault, okay?”

She nodded and gave him a small smile. Devon hoped this little girl wouldn’t spend the rest of her life believing she was the reason her father had died.

They excused themselves and walked back into the house. When no one was watching, they stole up the stairs to snoop around a bit and see if they could find any evidence to point to a cause of death. 

They pushed open a door that revealed a large bathroom with blood stains still on the floor. “The Bloody Mary legend. Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?” Sam asked.

Dean walked in and flipped the light on. “Not that I know of.”

Devon followed him inside the bathroom. “I mean, everywhere else, all over the country, kids have played Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, nobody dies from it.”

“Yeah, well, maybe everywhere it’s just a story, but here, it’s actually happening,” Dean said thoughtfully. 

“The place where the legend began?” Sam asked. “But according to the legend, the person who says” –he shut the door to the medicine cabinet that Dean was snooping through– “the person who says…you know what…gets it, but here…”

Dean interrupted him. “Shoemaker gets it instead, yeah.”

“Right.”

Dean shook his head. "Never heard of anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror. And the daughter’s right. The way the legend goes, you-know-who scratches your eyes out.”

“It’s worth checking into,” Devon agreed.

They suddenly heard footsteps in the hallway and quickly walked to the doorway. Donna’s friend confronted them. 

“What are you doing up here?” she asked accusingly. 

Dean smiled at her. “We, uh…we had to go to the bathroom.”

"Who are you?" she asked.

“Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna’s dad,” Dean explained.

She looked at them. “He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself.”

"No, I know, I meant…” Dean stammered.

“And all those weird questions downstairs,” she interrupted him. “What was that?” They all fidgeted, not sure what to say to her. “So, you tell me what’s going on, or I start screaming.”

“All right, all right,” Sam agreed quickly. “We think something happened to Donna’s dad.”

She scowled. “Yeah, a stroke.”

Devon stepped forward a bit. “That’s not the sign of a typical stroke. We think it might be something else.”

She looked at Devon confused. “Like what?”

“Honestly, we don’t know yet,” she replied. “But we don’t want it to happen to anyone else. That’s the truth.”

"So, if you’re gonna scream, go right ahead,” Dean said, that cocky look on his face.

The girl stood there for a moment before sighing. “Who are you, cops?”

They all looked at each other. “Something like that,” Dean said.

"I'll tell you what… Here,” Sam said, reaching into his pocket for paper and a pen and writing his cell phone number down. “If you think of anything, you or your friends notice anything strange, out of the ordinary…just give us a call.” He handed the paper to her, and the three of them walked past her to leave. 

Once they were in the car, they decided to head to the local library.

“All right, say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town,” Dean said as they entered the library. “There’s gonna be some sort of proof, right? A local woman who died nasty.”

Devon felt like she was practically jogging to keep pace with their long legs. “Yeah, but a legend this wide spread… It’s hard. I mean, there’s like fifty versions of who she actually is.”

“One story says she's a witch, another says she’s a mutilated bride. There’s a lot more,” Sam added.

“So, what are we supposed to be looking for?” Dean asked.

“Well, every version’s got a few things in common. It’s always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror. So, we’ve got to search local newspapers, public records as far back as they go, see if we can find a Mary who fits the bill,” Sam said with a sigh. 

Dean grimaced. "Well, that sounds annoying.”

Sam shook his head. “No, it won’t be so bad as long as we…” He pointed at the computers they had walked to that had “out of order” signs on them. “Ha…I take it back. This will be very annoying.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered as they all headed toward the microfiche machine.

XXX

After they had finished at the library, the three checked into a local motel and congregated in Sam’s room. He stretched out on the bed and had dozed off within a few minutes. Devon put her finger to her lips to tell Dean to stay quiet and let him sleep, and the two of them began reading through some books on the lore that Devon had stashed in the trunk to see if they could find out more about the Bloody Mary legend.

After an hour of silence, Sam jerked awake, panting and shaking. They both looked at each other and then looked at him while he stared up at the ceiling, trying to get his breathing under control. “Why’d you let me fall asleep?” he asked.

Dean had his head propped up on his hand, his foot up on the extra chair. “’Cause I’m an awesome brother,” he said in a bored voice. “So, what’d you dream about?”

Sam sighed. “Lollipops and candy canes.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said with a smirk. He shook his head at Devon to tell her he wasn’t buying that for a second. 

“Find anything?” Sam asked, looking over at them.

Dean sighed. “Oh, besides a whole new level of frustration? No.”

“We’ve looked at everything,” Devon said. “A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine, committed suicide in front of a mirror.”

“And a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave,” Dean added. “But, uh, no Mary's.”

Sam sighed and fell back onto the pillows. “Maybe we just haven’t found it yet.”

Dean looked at him sardonically. “I’ve also been searching for strange deaths in the area, you know, eyeball bleeding, that sort of thing. There’s nothing. Whatever’s happening here, maybe it just ain’t Mary.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, pondering that idea, when Sam’s cellphone rang. “Hello?” He listened to the person on the other end of the line, his expression grim. “Sure. We’ll meet you there in ten minutes.” He hung up and stood. “That was Donna’s friend, Charlie. Another friend of hers is dead. We need to meet her at the park.”

Dean and Devon looked at each other grimly, and they all climbed into the Impala. It took Dean a few minutes to find the park, and they immediately saw her sitting on a small bench under a tree.

"They found Jill on the bathroom floor,” she said to them, sobbing. “And her-her eyes…they were gone!”

Sam shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. 

She wiped at her face. "And she said it! I heard her say it. But it couldn’t be because of that. I’m insane, right?”

The three of them looked at each other, unsure what to make of this new information. Dean was perched on the back of the bench. “No, you’re not insane,” he said, shaking his head.

“God, that makes me feel so much worse,” she said, continuing to cry.

“Look,” Sam said, “we think something’s happening here, something that can’t be explained.”

Dean looked at her. “And we’re gonna stop it,” he said firmly. “But we could use your help.”

Charlie looked at him confused. “W-What can I do?”

Devon put her arm around Charlie’s shoulders and squeezed reassuringly. “We need you to get us into Jill’s house. Specifically, her room.”

She nodded, wiping the tears from her face. “Okay.”

The boys nodded, and they all walked back to the car, Devon and Charlie sliding into the backseat. Charlie gave Dean directions, and he drove to Jill’s house. Once there, he parked half a block away while Charlie went to talk to Jill’s mom. The plan was for her to open the window in her bedroom for the three of them to crawl through.

They stood beside the window, Dean’s trusty green duffle bag on the ground beside them. After several minutes, the window opened, and Charlie stood back to allow them room to crawl through. She was nervous and kept fidgeting with her sweater.

“What did you tell Jill’s mom?” Sam asked.

"I just said I needed some time alone with Jill’s pictures and things.”

Devon smiled at her. “Great.”

Charlie put her hand to her forehead. “I hate lying to her.”

Dean had joined them by the bed where Sam had set the duffel bag and had pulled out what they would need. “Trust us, this is for the greater good. Hit the lights.”

She walked over and flipped the light switch. “What are you guys looking for?”

"We'll let you know as soon as we find it,” Sam said. “Hey, night vision.” He pointed a camcorder at Dean.

“Thanks, perfect,” Dean said, turning to pose. “Do I look like Paris Hilton?” he asked with a smirk. Charlie made a noise, and he shrugged.

Sam walked over to the closet door, the camcorder in his hand. He began filming the mirror that was attached to the door. “So, I don’t get it. I mean, the first victim didn’t summon Mary, and the second victim did. How’s she choosing them?”

Dean wandered around the room with his own camcorder. “Beats me. I wanna know why Jill said it in the first place.” He looked at Charlie.

She shrugged, uncomfortable. “It was just a joke.”

Devon was sweeping the room with the EMF detector. “Yeah, well, somebody’s gonna say it again. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Hey,” Sam called to them. “There’s a black light in the trunk, right?”

Dean nodded and ran out to the car to get it while Sam pulled a huge mirror off of the wall and laid it on the bed upside down. Dean tossed the small light to him, and Sam switched it on before ripping the paper backing off. He then shined the black light over the back of the mirror, and they all stared as ghostly handprints showed up along with a name.

“Gary Bryman?” Charlie read out loud. 

Sam looked at her. “Do you know who that is?”

She shook her head. “No.”

He looked at Dean and stood up. “Let’s go.” They put everything back, and the three of them snuck back out of the window while Charlie went to tell Jill’s mother goodbye. They then headed toward the library where Sam and Devon ran inside to research the name, and Dean and Charlie waited in the park across the street. 

After half an hour, Sam and Devon joined them at the park. “So, Gary Bryman was an eight year-old boy,” Devon said to them, a piece of paper in her hand. “Two years ago, he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camry, but nobody got the plates or saw the driver.”

Charlie looked as if she had been struck. “Oh, my God…”

“What?” Devon asked her. 

“Jill drove that car.” She looked at Dean in a panic.

He and Sam shared an eye roll. “We need to get back to your friend Donna’s house.”

They rushed back to Donna’s house where the three of them took the mirror in the deceased dad’s bathroom off of the wall and looked at the back of it under the black light. “Linda Shoemaker,” Sam read the name that showed up. They all looked at each other and went to join Charlie and Donna in the living room.

"Did you know a Linda Shoemaker?” Dean asked urgently.

Donna stared at them in confusion. “Why are you asking me this?”

Sam gave her the puppy dog eyes. “Look, we’re sorry, but it’s important.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Linda’s my mom, okay? And she overdosed on sleeping pills. It was an accident, and that’s it.” They all looked at each other knowingly, but she spoke again. “I think you should leave,” she said angrily.

“Donna, just listen…” Dean started.

"Get out of my house!" she yelled at them and walked off.

Charlie looked at them. “Oh, my God. Do you really think her dad could have killed her mom?”

Sam nodded. “Maybe.”

She sighed. “I think I should stick around.”

“All right, well, just whatever you do, don’t…” Dean said.

“Believe me, I won’t say it,” she said strongly.

The three of them left the house and headed back to the motel. Dean immediately sat down at the computer and begin to search. Sam turned to him, the room lit only by a lamp and the computer screen. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re doing a nationwide search?” he asked, looking at the screen.

Dean stared intently at the laptop screen. “Yep. The NCIC, the FBI database… At this point, any Mary in the country who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me.”

Devon sat down beside him, wondering how many laws they were breaking at that moment. “But if she’s haunting the town, she should have died in the town.”

“I’m telling you, there’s nothing local,” he said, looking up at her. “I’ve checked, so, unless you’ve got a better idea…”

Sam joined them at the small table. “The way Mary’s choosing her victims, it seems like there’s a pattern.”

Dean nodded. “I know, I was thinking the same thing.”

“With Mr. Shoemaker and Jill’s hit and run…” Sam said.

“Both had secrets where people died,” Dean finished.

Devon had grabbed a notepad and was writing out the victims, trying to find the pattern. “Right. I mean, there’s a lot of folklore about mirrors that they reveal all your lies, all your secrets, that they’re a true reflection of your soul, which is why it’s bad luck to break them,” she said.

“Right. Yeah, so maybe if you've got a secret – I mean, like a really nasty one where someone died – then Mary sees it and punishes you for it,” Dean said.

Sam nodded. “Whether you’re the one that summoned her or not.”

Dean looked at them both in triumph. “Take a look at this.” He began printing photos off from what he had found online. They were pictures of a dead girl with a mirror in the background, a handprint visible. He then printed a photo of the mirror from Jill’s house.

"Looks like the same handprint,” Devon said, looking over Sam’s shoulder. 

“Her name was Mary Worthington – an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana,” Dean said, looking at them both. 

Sam nodded. "I guess we’re going to Fort Wayne in the morning.”

XXX

The next morning, they drove to Fort Wayne, Indiana to talk to the detective that had worked the Mary Worthington murder. He had retired, but they found his address and knocked on the door, telling him they were with a newspaper that had picked up the story of the unsolved crime. He ushered them inside and began to tell them about it.

“I was on the job for thirty-five years, detective for most of that. Now, everybody packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder… That one still gets me,” he said with a weary sigh. 

“What exactly happened?” Dean asked him. 

He looked at them intently. "You said you were reporters."

“We know Mary was nineteen,” Sam said, “lived by herself. We know she won a few local beauty contests, dreamt of getting out of Indiana, being an actress. And we know the night of March 29th, someone broke into her apartment and murdered her…cut out her eyes with a knife.”

The retired detective nodded. “That’s right.”

“See, sir, when we ask you what happened, we want to know what you think happened,” Dean said.

The man looked at him with a new appreciation and went to a large file cabinet. He opened the top drawer and pulled out a stack of files. “Technically, I’m not supposed to have a copy of this. Now…” he said, showing them a photo of a large mirror that held a reflection of Mary’s lifeless body, “see that there, ‘T-R-E?’” He pointed to the letters written on her clothing in her blood.

They nodded. 

“I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer.”

Devon looked up at him. “You know who it was?” she asked.

He looked down. “Not for sure. But there was a local man, a surgeon – Trevor Sampson. And I think he cut her up good.”

“Now why would he do something like that?” Sam asked.

“Her diary mentioned a man she was seeing. She called him by his initial – T. Well, her last entry, she was gonna tell T’s wife about their affair.”

Dean looked down at the photo. “Yeah, but how do you know it was this guy Sampson that killed her?”

The detective sighed again. “It’s hard to say. But the way her eyes were cut out, it was almost professional.”

“But you could never prove it?” Dean asked. 

He shook his head. “Nope. No prints, no witnesses. He was meticulous.”

“Is he still alive?” Devon asked.

“Nope,” he answered, sitting down in the chair behind his desk. “If you ask me, Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy’s secret. But she never could.”

A silence hung over them for a moment while they thought about what he had just said. “Where’s she buried?” Sam asked suddenly.

“She wasn’t. She was cremated.”

Dean groaned under his breath. “What about that mirror?” he asked, pointing to the large mirror in the crime scene photo. “It’s not in some evidence lockup somewhere, is it?”

He shook his head. “No. It was returned to Mary’s family a long time ago.”

You have the names of her family by any chance?” Sam asked.

He nodded. “Of course. But I don’t think they’ll appreciate having all this dredged back up again, if you know what I mean.”

Devon nodded. “We understand, but if we can help solve the case…find out who actually killed her… Don’t you think they would want that closure?”

He looked at her for a moment before nodding. He scribbled down a name and phone number and handed it to her. “Just remember, this family has been through hell.”

She smiled at him. “We know. And we just want to help.” 

They thanked him for his assistance and left, looking at the phone number he had given them. “Sam, this is your area of expertise,” Dean said with a smirk, and they climbed back into the Impala to head back while Sam called the family to see what happened to the mirror. 

He introduced himself as an antiques dealer who had seen the mirror in a photo and was interested in purchasing it. He listened for a moment before speaking. “Ah, that’s too bad, Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror. Okay, well, maybe next time. All right, thanks.” He hung up. “Dammit,” he muttered.

“So?” Dean asked impatiently.

“So, that was Mary’s brother. The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques…a store in Toledo.”

Devon looked at him wide-eyed. “Son of a bitch,” she muttered.

“So, wherever the mirror goes, that’s where Mary goes?” Dean asked. 

Sam sighed. “Her spirit’s definitely tied up with it somehow.”

“Isn’t there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, there is. When someone would die in a house, people would cover up the mirrors so the ghost wouldn’t get trapped,” Devon answered.

Dean nodded, piecing the case together. “So, Mary dies in front of the mirror, and it draws in her spirit.”

Sam shook his head in confusion. “Yeah, but how could she move through like a hundred different mirrors?”

“I don’t know, but if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it,” Dean said. 

Sam sighed. “Yeah, I don’t know…maybe.” His cell phone rang at that moment. “Hello?” He listened for a moment and sat up straighter. “Charlie?” Devon and Dean looked at him. “Okay, just hang tight. We’ll be there as quick as we can.”

"What?" Devon demanded as soon as he hung up.

“Donna said it while she and Charlie were in the bathroom. Now Charlie’s seeing Mary.”

“Motherfucker!” Dean shouted and slammed his fist against the steering wheel. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Sam just shook his head. 

“Hurry,” Devon said quietly, and Dean slammed the accelerator to the floor.

XXX

They screeched to a halt in front of their motel, and Charlie immediately met them at the car, her face swollen and tear-streaked. “Help me,” she whispered, terrified.

The three of them herded her into the motel room and began covering anything reflective with blankets and sheets while she sat on the bed, rocking, her head buried inside her sweater. Sam was taking down pictures from the wall and laying them face down on the floor. When he was finished, he sat down beside her. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. You can open up your eyes, Charlie. It’s okay, all right? Now, listen. You’re gonna stay right here on this bed. You’re not gonna look at glass or anything else that has a reflection, okay? As long as you do that, she cannot get you.”

Dean and Devon walked around the room, looking intently for anything they might have missed.

Charlie pulled her head out of her collar. “But I can’t keep that up forever. I’m gonna die, aren’t I?” she asked, glancing at Sam.

"No," he said emphatically. “No. Not anytime soon.”

Dean sat down on the end of the bed. “All right, Charlie, we need to know what happened.”

“We were in the bathroom,” she said, her voice shaking. “Donna said it.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what we’re talking about. Something happened, didn’t it? In your life…a secret…where someone got hurt? Can you tell us about it?” They were all staring at her intently.

Her chin started quivering, and Devon wrapped her arm around her as tears ran down her cheeks. “I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me, too, you know? And…one night at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me, and he loved me. And he said…’Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I’m gonna kill myself.’ And do you know what I said? I said, ‘go ahead.’ And I left. How could I say that?” she asked, her voice wavering. Devon held her tighter. “How could I leave him like that? I just…I didn’t believe him, you know? I should have.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and laid her head on them, sobbing.

They let her cry for several minutes before Dean motioned for Devon and Sam to join him by the front door. “We need to find this mirror and smash the motherfucker…now.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. You think she’ll be okay here by herself?”

“Maybe I should stay with her,” Devon said quietly, looking back at Charlie who was now laying in a fetal position on the bed. 

Dean shook his head. “No, we may need you. We’ve covered everything that Mary could possibly use. She’s safer here than anywhere.”

Devon nodded and walked over to the bed, covering Charlie up with a blanket. "Charlie, we know how to fix this. Just hang tight, okay? And don’t leave this room.”

Charlie nodded, and they jumped into the car, Dean racing toward the antique store that housed the cursed mirror.

“You know, her boyfriend killing himself, that's not really Charlie’s fault,” Dean said.

"You know as well as we do, spirits don’t exactly see shades of gray, Dean,” Sam replied. “Charlie had a secret, someone died. That’s good enough for Mary.”

Dean scoffed. “I guess.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking, it might not be enough to just smash that mirror,” Sam said hesitantly.

Devon looked up at him. “Why, what do you mean?”

Sam glanced over at them. “Mary’s hard to pin down, right? I mean, she moves around from mirror to mirror. So, who’s to say that she’s not gonna just keep hiding in them forever? So maybe…we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror, and then smash it.”

“Well, how do you know that’s gonna work?” Dean asked.

“I don’t. I’m not for sure.”

Dean looked at him like he was crazy. “Well, who’s gonna summon her?”

Sam stared straight ahead. “I will. She’ll come after me.”

Devon grabbed his arm. “Sam, no…”

Dean shook his head in frustration. “All right, you know what? That’s it.” He pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned the engine off. Devon groaned under her breath, afraid all hell was about to break loose. He turned in the seat. “This is about Jessica, isn’t it?” When Sam didn’t answer, he continued. “You think that’s your dirty little secret? That you killed her somehow? Sam, this has gotta stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and…and calling her name out in the middle of the night, it’s gonna kill you! Now, listen to me. It wasn’t your fault. If you want to blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or, hell, why don’t you take a swing at me? I mean, I’m the one that dragged you away from her in the first place.”

Sam looked over at him at that statement. “I don’t blame you,” he said quietly. 

“Well, you shouldn’t blame yourself,” Dean said forcefully. “Because there’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“I could have warned her,” Sam said.

Dean scoffed at him. “About what? You didn’t know what was gonna happen! And besides, all of this isn’t a secret. I mean, we know all about it. It’s not gonna work with Mary, anyway.”

Sam stared straight ahead at the rain running down the windshield. “No, you don’t,” he said softly. 

“I don’t what?”

“You don’t know all about it. I haven’t told you everything.” He looked over at them.

Devon spoke up. “Sam, what are you talking about?”

He smiled sadly. “It wouldn’t really be a secret if I told you, would it?”

Dean sat back in surprise, his eyebrows raised. “No,” he finally said. “I don’t like it. It’s not gonna happen. Forget it.”

“Dean, that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it. And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that. Now, we’re doing this. You’ve got to let me do this,” he said, pleading.

Dean sat there for a moment before he fired the engine up and pulled back onto the highway, tires squealing and the backend fishtailing on the wet pavement. “Fine,” he bit out. “But I don’t like it.”

Sam shook his head. “You don’t have to like it,” he said quietly.

They soon pulled up in front of the antique store, and Sam quickly picked the lock. They entered the store, and Devon groaned at how many mirrors the place held. The thunder rumbling outside just added to the spooky ambiance, and she moved a little closer to Dean.

“Well, that’s just great,” he muttered as he looked at all of the mirrors. He pulled out the photo of the mirror, and they split up to try to find it. It seemed as if the place sold nothing but mirrors. “Maybe they’ve already sold it,” he called out.

Sam suddenly stopped. “I don’t think so,” he replied. Dean and Devon turned and followed his voice. 

They all looked at the large, garish mirror and compared it to the one in the photo. “That’s it,” Devon said quietly.

Dean sighed and looked at Sam. “You sure about this?”

Sam handed his flashlight to Dean and stepped up to the mirror. “Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary.” He looked at Dean and Devon and lifted up the crowbar they had brought to smash the mirror with. “Bloody Mary.”

Suddenly, the front of the store was flooded with a bright light. “I’ll go check that out. You two stay here,” Dean said, walking away. “Be careful. Smash anything that moves.” He crept to the front of the store and saw two police cars pointed at the store. “Shit,” he muttered, thinking quickly. He stashed his crowbar and decided to head out into the open. He walked out the front door.

“Hold it!” one policeman shouted.

He put his hands up in the air. “Whoa, whoa! Guys, false alarm. I tripped the system.”

“Who are you?”

He grinned at them. “I’m the boss’s kid.”

The two police officers looked at each other. “You’re Mr. Yamashiro’s kid?” the other officer asked in disbelief.

Dean looked surprised, trying to figure out what to do next. He laughed and tried to act friendly. “Yeah, I was adopted.” He looked at the two men who were on either side of him, and he knew they didn’t believe him. “You know, I just…I really don’t have time for this right now.” He suddenly lashed out, punching each one in the face and effectively knocking them both out. He dragged them to the shadows beside the store, hoping no one would notice them.

Devon and Sam were staring intently at the mirror when he turned as if he heard something. “What?” she asked him.

He lifted the crowbar up higher and turned to a mirror, smashing it against the glass and causing it to shatter. “Get back!” he shouted at Devon who stepped back and tripped, landing on her ass and cracking her head against the concrete floor. Sam continued to turn to the mirrors around him and was swinging at each of them. He then lined up in front of the main mirror, crowbar at the ready. “Come on,” he muttered. “Come into this one.”

Sam suddenly did a double take as his reflection began moving on its own. He gasped as pain filled his head, and he felt something wet begin to run out of his eyes. The pain moved down into his chest, and he dropped the crowbar. He watched in horror as his reflection began to speak to him. “It's your fault. You killed her. You killed Jessica,” Mirror Sam said to him while blood ran out of his eyes and down his face. “You never told her the truth, who you really were. But it's more than that, isn’t it? Those nightmares you’ve been having of Jessica dying, screaming, burning… You had them for days before she died. Didn’t you?”

He was kneeling on the floor, the pain in his chest almost unbearable. 

"You were so desperate to be normal, to believe they were just dreams. How could you ignore them like that? How could you leave her alone to die? You dreamt it would happen!” Mirror Sam shouted at him. 

He was almost to the point of collapse when Dean came running up and slammed his crowbar into the mirror, shattering the glass into millions of pieces. “Sammy! Sammy!” he said, pulling Sam’s head up to look at him. 

"It's Sam," he replied hoarsely, looking at his brother through the blood running out of his eyes.

Dean didn’t find it funny. “God, are you okay?” he asked him. “Where’s Devon?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sam answered shakily. “She tripped. She’s over there somewhere.”

"Come on,” Dean said, helping him standup and looking around for Devon. “Devon!” He really wanted to get them all out of there before those cops came to or someone noticed their car sitting on the sidewalk or their unconscious bodies in the alleyway.

Devon stood up shakily, her head still swimming. “Yeah, I’m here.” Dean had Sam’s arm around his shoulders and was practically carrying him toward the front door when she saw something she couldn’t hardly believe. A girl was crawling out of the empty mirror frame. “Dean!” she shouted. 

The boys turned around and saw the girl crawling toward them, like something out of a horror movie. She stood up, and as she got closer to them, they begin to experience pain in their chest and head, and their eyes started to bleed. The pain was so bad, they both fell to the floor, groaning. 

"Hey!" Devon yelled, causing the girl to turn around. She was holding a large mirror in front of her which made Bloody Mary finally face her own reflection.

Devon watched as the ghost girl straightened up and stared at herself in the mirror. “You killed them! All those people! You killed them!” her reflection shouted at her while blood ran out of her eyes. The ghost girl moaned and groaned and then melted into the floor. Devon threw the mirror down, causing it to shatter.

Dean and Sam sat up and looked at her in surprise. “Dev, how did you know to do that?” Dean asked her.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just figured maybe if she had to face her own sins, it would stop her.”

He looked around at the plethora of shattered mirrors around them. “Hey, guys. That’s gotta be, like what? Six hundred years of bad luck?” 

Sam sighed, and Devon laughed, unable to stop herself. She stumbled over to them, her head still swimming from where she had cracked it against the floor, but they were all okay. A little worse for wear, but okay. They left the store and hurried to the Impala that was parked around the corner, and they got away from the antique store as quickly as they could.

XXX

It was morning by the time they got back to the motel. They found Charlie asleep on the bed, still in the same fetal position. She screamed when they woke her up but then cried in relief when they told her it was over. The boys quickly washed their faces off, and they drove Charlie home. 

Dean pulled up in front of her house and turned to look at her in the backseat.

“So, this is really over?” she asked, still unable to believe it. 

He nodded. "Yeah, it’s over.”

She smiled at them and hugged Devon, who was sitting beside her. “Thank you.”

Dean reached back and patted her on the knee, and she opened the door and got out of the car.

“Charlie,” Sam called as she was walking away. “Your boyfriend’s death… You really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn’t have stopped it. Sometimes, bad things just happen.”

She smiled at them and turned to walk into the house. Dean started the car and smacked Sam on the arm. “That’s good advice,” he said with a smirk. 

Sam just nodded, and Dean pulled away. “Hey, Sam?” he asked after a few minutes. 

“Yeah?”

Devon held her breath because she knew what he was going to ask. She climbed over the seat and plopped down between them.

“Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret was.”

Sam smiled. “Look…you’re my brother. And I’d die for you. But there are some things I need to keep to myself.”

Dean glared at him, not liking his answer, but he shrugged and headed out of town. “All right. I’ll accept that…for now.”


	6. Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the delay on getting this chapter up and posted. The holidays and real life kind of kicked me in the butt. So, without further ado…
> 
> Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me except for my Supernatural Monopoly game and my Pop Dean!

Devon sat up in bed, gasping for breath, adrenaline rushing through her body. She looked around the room and tried to make out shapes in the darkness and realized she was in a cheap motel room...not the house. The breathing she heard in the room with her was Dean…not her foster parents.

She sat there panting for a few moments before Dean roused and sat up. “Dev, you okay?”

“Y-Yeah…” she answered, her voice shaky.

He put his hand up and brushed her hair from her damp forehead. “Was it the dream again?”

She nodded in the darkness. “Yeah,” she whispered and reached over for her water bottle that was sitting on the bedside table. She took a long drink, trying to moisten her mouth. She tried to focus on the feeling of the cool liquid sliding over her tongue and down her throat in an attempt to calm down. 

Dean sighed and ran his fingers through her hair, soothing her nerves. “It’s okay. It was just a dream.”

“I know,” she answered, her voice shaky. “I haven’t had that dream for a long time.” She had actually been so busy lately, she hadn’t given any thought to the nightmare that had brought Dean into her life.

He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to the top of her head, trying to soothe her shaking. “I’m here, and I won’t ever let anything bad happen to you.”

Devon wrapped her arms over his and held on tightly, letting the warmth from his body slowly relax her shaking muscles. As much as she tried to prevent it, her mind wandered back in time…

Devon sat in the hard chair, the rough splintered wood digging into her back, her bindings cutting off circulation to her hands and feet. She stared as her foster mother was cheerfully cutting up vegetables and putting them in a large pot on the stove while her foster father sharpened a large meat cleaver in front of her.

“You know, two hundred years ago, we cooked over a fire and had a huge pot, so I only had to make a few rough chops. But now…well, all of you won’t fit in the small pot we have, so we’ll just have to toss the leftovers into the deep freeze in the basement. Darling, I think we actually have some of our last guest still in the freezer,” he said pleasantly to his wife. 

She smiled at him. “I think you’re right, dear.”

Devon wanted to glare at him, but she just felt her eyes fill up with tears and spill down her cheeks. She struggled against her bindings and felt the rough rope cut into her skin. She wanted to give them both a piece of her mind, but the gag in her mouth kept her from making any intelligible noises. God, so this was how it was going to end. She shook her head at the irony. She had survived a horrible childhood with a junkie mother and ended up in the foster system, where she had been bounced from foster home to foster home because she was what they called “difficult.” Now, she was only six months away from her eighteenth birthday – six months from finally being free – and she was gonna die and be boiled in a stew because her foster parents were fucking witches who ate children.

Her foster mother smiled widely at her. "And the best part of it is…they will never be the wiser. We take the difficult children, the ones who frequently run away from home, and when they finally do run away for good and never resurface, no one thinks anything about it. It's the perfect cover!”

Suddenly, the door burst open, small wood fragments flying from the broken door jam as it was kicked open and an older man came barreling into the room, gun drawn. She looked in wide-eyed astonishment as none other than Dean Winchester entered the room next, a large glass bottle filled with a liquid and a rag stuffed into the opening. He held a Zippo lighter in the other hand. Finally, his younger brother entered behind them, another Molotov cocktail in his hand. Devon knew Dean from school; he had been the only person who had been nice to her. Being a foster kid who was shuttled from house to house and school to school made her a target of bullies, and she had immediately tried to retreat into her own shell, but Dean had pulled her out of it and had shown her that not everyone was out to see her fail.

“Devon,” Dean said softly in her ear, bringing her out of her thoughts. “What are you thinking about?”

She snuggled into him, feeling safe and protected in his embrace. “Ma and Pa Kettle.”

He pressed his lips to her temple. “Don’t. Don’t think about them. That’s long over; they’re dead and can’t ever hurt you or anyone ever again.”

Devon turned over so that her nose was buried in his chest. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and held on tightly. “I know,” she said, her voice muffled. “But I am glad for them because if I hadn’t almost been filleted, I would never have met you.”

Dean held her a little tighter and hummed the first song that came to his mind. She was lulled back to sleep almost instantly.

XXX

“All right. I figure we’d hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south, hit Bisbee by midnight,” Dean said, pulling into a gas station and turning the engine off. He looked over when no one responded to him. Devon was half asleep, and Sam was scrolling through something on his cell phone. “Sam wears women’s underwear,” he said to see if anyone was paying any attention.

Sam continued to read whatever was on his screen. “I’m listening. I’m just busy.”

“Busy doing what?”

“Reading emails,” Sam answered, clicking on another one to read it.

Dean opened his door and got out to pump gas. “Emails from who?”

“From my friends at Stanford.”

He walked over to the pump and lifted the nozzle. “You're kidding. You still keep in touch with your college buddies?”

“Why not?” Sam asked surprised.

Dean shrugged. “Well…what exactly do you tell them, you know, about where you been, what you’ve been doing?”

“I tell them I’m on a road trip with my big brother. I tell them I needed some time off after Jess.”

He leaned against the back door on the passenger side and looked at Sam in surprise. “Well, so you lie to them.”

Sam shook his head. “No. I just don’t tell them everything.”

Dean smirked at him. “Yeah, that’s called lying. Hey, man, I get it. Telling them the truth is far worse.”

Sam sighed in frustration. “So, what am I supposed to do? Just cut everybody out of my life?”

He shrugged.

“You’re serious?” Sam asked in surprise.

“Look, it sucks. But in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period.”

Sam looked at him in amazement. “Do I need to remind you that your girlfriend is currently asleep and drooling on my shoulder?”

Dean scowled. “That…that’s a special circumstance. She knows what we do. But other than her, I don’t let people in.”

"You're kind of antisocial, you know that?” Sam asked with a laugh. Personally, he was glad Dean and Devon had each other, although seeing them together made him miss Jessica terribly.

He shrugged. “Yeah, whatever.”

Sam continued to read the latest email he had pulled up, and his mouth opened in surprise. “God,” he whispered.

Devon stirred and sat up, smiling apologetically at Sam for the slobber patch she had left on his jacket. “What?” she asked sleepily.

Dean leaned down to see what Sam was talking about.

“This email from this girl, Rebecca Warren, one of those friends of mine. I went to school with her and her brother, Zach. She says Zach’s been charged with murder. He's been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says he didn’t do it, but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case.”

Dean read over his shoulder silently for a moment. “Dude, what kind of people you hanging out with?”

Sam shook his head. “No, man. I know Zach. He’s no killer.”

“Well, maybe you know Zach as well as he knows you.”

Devon looked at him sleepily, confused as she had slept through the earlier part of the conversation.

Sam looked over at Dean. “They’re in St. Louis. We’re going,” he said firmly.

Dean chuckled. “I’m sorry about your buddy, okay? But this does not sound like our kind of problem.”

“It is our problem. They’re my friends.”

“St. Louis is four hundred miles behind us, Sam!” Dean argued.

Sam just stared up at his brother.

Dean pulled the nozzle from the gas tank and hung it back up on the gas pump before stalking inside to pay. When he got back to the car, he slammed his door a littler harder than necessary. “Fine, fuck it,” he muttered, turning the car to go back in the direction they had just come from, tires squealing.

Devon glared at them both. “I’m going back to sleep,” she muttered and settled against Dean’s shoulder, drifting back off.

XXX

Six hours later, they stood at the front door of a huge house. Sam rang the doorbell, and it was answered by a pretty blonde girl. She stared at them in surprise.

“Oh, my god. Sam!”

“Well, if it isn’t Little Becky,” he said jokingly.

She glared at him playfully. “You know what you can do with that Little Becky crap.” She reached up and hugged him. 

He hugged her back. “I got your email.”

“I didn’t think that you would come here,” she said, her voice still full of surprise.

Dean pushed past Sam to shake her hand. “Dean – older brother.”

Devon elbowed him hard in the ribs, making him grunt. “I’m Devon. Dean’s girlfriend.”

She smiled at them. “Hi.”

“We’re here to help. Whatever we can do,” Sam said in that soft voice he liked to use.

She motioned for them to enter the house. “Come in,” she said, leading them toward a large kitchen.

"Nice place," Dean commented, looking around.

“It’s my parents’. I was just crashing here for the long weekend when everything happened. I decided to take the semester off. I’m gonna stay until Zach’s free.”

“Where’re your folks?” Sam asked.

She glanced back at him. “They live in Paris for half the year, so they’re on their way home now for the trial. Do you all want a beer or something?”

Devon looked around and wondered just what her parents did to afford such a house and lifestyle.

“Hey!” Dean said with a smile, but Sam glared at him.

“No, thanks,” Sam said. “So…tell us what happened.”

She sighed. “Well, um, Zach had came home, and he found Emily tied to a chair. And she was beaten up and bloody, and she wasn’t breathing. And so he…he called 911,” she said, her voice breaking. “And the police, they showed up, and…and they arrested him. But the thing is, the only way that Zach could have killed Emily is if he was in two places at the same time. The police, they have a video. It’s from the security tape from across the street, and it shows Zach coming home at 10:30. Now, Emily was killed just after that, but I swear, he was here with me, having a few beers until at least after midnight.”

Sam looked at Dean for a moment before turning his gaze back to Becky. “You know, maybe we could see the crime scene – Zach’s house.”

“We could?” Dean asked pointedly. He looked at Devon and rolled his eyes.

Becky looked at them in confusion. “Why? What could you do?”

“Well, me, not much. But Dean’s a cop.” He smiled at Dean’s look of surprise.

Dean laughed nervously. “A detective, actually,” he said, going along with Sam’s lie.

She looked at him hopefully. “Really? Where?”

He smiled uncomfortably. “Bisbee, Arizona. But…I’m off duty now.”

Becky looked away from them. “I don’t know. You guys, it’s so nice to offer, but I just…I don’t know.”

Sam sighed. “Beck, look, I know Zach didn’t do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he’s innocent.”

She looked back and forth at them all for several moments. “Okay. I’m gonna go get the keys.”

She left the room, and Dean shook his head, whistling in amazement. “Oh, yeah, man. You’re a real straight shooter with your friends,” he said sarcastically.

“Look, Zach and Becky need our help.”

Dean sighed. “I just don’t think this is our kind of problem.”

“Two places at once? We’ve looked into less,” Sam said with a smirk.

“He’s right,” Devon said softly.

Dean bit his lower lip and finally nodded in agreement. Becky came back into the kitchen with a set of keys, and Dean followed her directions to Zach’s apartment. The neighborhood seemed safe enough with manicured lawns and trees lining the street. They all got out and looked at the building.

“You’re sure this is okay?” Becky asked Dean nervously.

“Yeah,” he said, looking at Sam. “I am an officer of the law.” He nodded slightly and led them into the building. They took the elevator to the second floor and immediately saw the door that was barricaded with yellow crime scene tape. 

Becky unlocked the door and pushed it open, and the three of them ducked under the plastic tape and stepped into the apartment. The room was still in disarray, blood splatters and evidence markers where the crime scene techs had left them. A bag of fruit was spilled on the table, the oranges beginning to shrivel. She stood outside the door and looked in, her eyes full of tears and her hand at her throat. 

“You want to wait outside?” Devon asked her kindly.

She shook her head and stepped into the room. “No, I want to help.”

Dean walked around, looking intently at the evidence of the brutal murder.

“Tell us what else the police said,” Sam said to her.

“Well…there was no sign of a break-in. They say that Emily let her attacker in. And the lawyers are already talking about a plea bargain.” Her voice broke, and tears ran down her cheeks as she looked at the blood that had dried on the walls.

Sam gave her a moment. “Look, Beck. If Zach didn’t do this, it means someone else did. Any idea who?”

She shook her head. “Um, there was something. About a week before, somebody broke in here and stole some clothes – Zach’s clothes. And the police, they don’t think it’s anything. I mean, we’re not that far from downtown. I mean, sometimes people get robbed.”

Dean joined Devon at the window, where she was looking at a large dog that was barking up at them. 

“You know, that used to be the sweetest dog,” Becky said, looking out of the window with them. 

“What happened?” Dean asked her.

She shrugged. “He just changed.”

“Do you remember when he changed?” Devon asked her.

“I guess around the time of the murder.” 

Dean sighed and pulled Devon into the kitchen where Sam was standing, looking at a photograph of him, Becky and Zach that was on the refrigerator. “So, the neighbor’s dog went psycho right around the time Zach’s girlfriend was killed.”

“Animals can have a sharp sense of the paranormal,” Devon said quietly.

“Maybe Fido saw something,” Dean said.

Sam smirked slightly. “So, you think maybe this is our kind of problem?”

Dean shook his head. “No, probably not. But we should look at the security tape just to make sure.” He turned to look at Becky who was walking toward them. “So, the tape – the security footage? Think maybe your lawyers could get their hands on it? See, I just don’t have that kind of jurisdiction.”

She looked at them sheepishly. “I’ve already got it. I didn’t want to say anything in front of the cop.” Dean chuckled. “I, um, I stole it off the lawyer’s desk. I just had to see it for myself.”

“All right,” Dean said and motioned them all out of the apartment. They went back to Becky’s house where she loaded the security tape into the VCR. 

“Here he comes,” she said as they all watched the video.

Dean sat on the arm rest of the couch and stared at it. “22:04…that’s just after ten o’clock,” he said, referring to the military time stamp on the video. “You said time of death was about ten-thirty.”

She nodded. “Our lawyers hired some kind of video expert. He says the tape’s authentic. It wasn’t tampered with.”

Sam stared at the television screen for a few moments before speaking. “Hey, Beck, can we take those beers now?”

“Oh, sure,” she said and stood up to head into the kitchen.

“Hey, uh, maybe some sandwiches, too?” he asked with that cute smile.

She laughed at him. “What do you think this is, Hooters?”

“I wish,” Dean muttered, earning him a smack from Devon. “What is it?” he asked Sam and walked over to join him.

Sam pointed the remote at the television. “Check this out.” He played the video frame by frame until Zach was facing it directly. His eyes were a silver sheen. 

“Maybe it’s just a camera flare,” Dean suggested.

Sam shook his head. “That’s not like any camera flare I’ve ever seen.”

Devon nodded. “A lot of cultures believe that a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul. Remember that dog that was freaking out? Maybe he saw this thing.”

“Maybe this is some kind of dark double of Zach’s. Something that looks like him but isn’t him,” Sam said.

Dean nodded. “Like a doppelgänger.”

“That would sure explain how he was in two places at once.”

They all stared at the screen, and Devon shivered at the creepy image. Dean wrapped his arm around her and gave her a soft squeeze. “Ugh, that’s just creepy,” she said softly.

"Here you go," Becky said, carrying a tray laden with food and beer bottles. Dean grabbed it from her and set it on the coffee table, and Sam quickly turned the tape off before she could see the disturbing image. They all ate in silence, and when they were finished, they thanked her and stood up. 

“We better get going,” Dean said, heading toward the front door.

Becky followed them and opened the door for them. “Do you guys need a place to stay?” she asked.

Sam shook his head. “No, we’ve got a couple of rooms close by, but thanks.”

She reached up and hugged him. “Thank you…for everything.”

He smiled at her. “We’ll call you tomorrow.” She waved at them as they drove away.

XXX

Devon sat up with a start, her heart racing. What the fuck was the matter with her? Why in the hell was she dreaming that stupid dream again after so long? She climbed out of bed and headed into the bathroom. At least she had woken up before she was almost chopped into stew meat, so she wasn’t as panicky. She splashed some cold water on her face and looked at her pale reflection in the mirror, taking a few deep breaths. When her heart rate had settled down a bit, she flipped the light off and climbed back into bed, trying not to wake Dean.

“Another nightmare?” he asked her softly in the darkness.

She laid down on her side and cuddled up to him, sighing when he wrapped his arm around her waist. “Yeah, but it’s okay. I didn’t get as far.”

He had his other arm stuck under her head like a pillow, and she reached one hand up to lightly rest against his wrist, her fingers absently stroking the crisp hair and sinewy muscles. He pulled his other hand back some to wiggle under the camisole she was sleeping in and began lightly stroking her stomach.

Devon sighed again, wishing they could just stay like that forever. When she was awake and with Dean, there was little she was actually afraid of. Hell, Dean Winchester was what monsters had nightmares about. But when she was asleep… That was another story.

“I know how to take your mind off of it,” he said low, giving her goosebumps. He slid his hand higher until it was cupping her breast, and he began lightly running his thumb over her nipple.

“Mmm, I know you do,” she said with a groan and pressed her bottom back against his already growing erection. It certainly didn’t take him long to get going.

He tugged her earlobe between his teeth and nibbled. “Do you want me to?”

She reached back with her free hand and slipped it into his pajama pants, gripping his cock and pumping a few times. She smiled in the darkness at the loud groan that escaped him. “God, yes,” she said with a sigh and then giggled when he bit down harder on her neck. She figured she would be marked there in the morning, but she didn’t care. She wanted the whole world to know she belonged to Dean Winchester.

Dean pushed her pajama pants down to her ankles and managed to push them off with his feet, but her panties were giving him problems. They just didn’t want to slide down easily. “Motherfucking panties,” he growled, hooking a finger under the side.

“Huh uh!” she said, stopping him. “You just ripped a pair a couple of weeks ago! At this rate, I won’t have any left.”

He licked down to her shoulder. “And tell me why that would be a bad thing?”

She rolled her eyes. “Dean…”

“All right, then you take the fuckers off.”

Devon giggled and turned over onto her back. “You just need two hands, genius.” She scooched and scooted around until she had them down to her knees, and he reached down and pulled them off, twirling them above his head. “Happy, cupcake?”

She lightly kicked him in the shoulder. “Yes. Those are Victoria’s Secret.”

Dean grabbed her leg and began placing light kisses from her ankle to the bend of her knee. “And what secrets are you hiding?”

She groaned and spread her thighs a little more, hoping he would keep moving those luscious lips higher. “Nothing. You know me better than I know myself.”

He grinned at her and separated her folds with his thumbs, lightly blowing over her wetness and making her squirm. “Yes, I do.” He stared into her eyes, his green eyes intent on her light gray ones, while he deliberately ran his tongue slowly up her slit.

“Oh, dear God,” she groaned, reaching down and fisting her fingers in his hair.

He chuckled and began licking and sucking, knowing exactly what would drive her crazy. He grinned when he pushed his tongue inside her, and she arched off of the bed, pulling painfully on his hair.

“Fuck, Dean,” she said with a moan, her legs hooked over his shoulders.

He pulled back. “You keep doing that, and I’ll be bald by the time I’m thirty,” he teased her.

She flipped him off. “Then don’t torment me.”

“You love it, and you know it.” He sat back slightly and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before climbing up her body and laying down against her, his cock teasing her entrance.

Devon grabbed his face and pressed her lips to his, tasting herself on his tongue. She pulled back and looked into his eyes, a warm sensation blossoming in her chest at how much she loved this man. “Yes, I do,” she said, her voice breaking slightly with emotion.

He dipped his head down and kissed her again, this time chastely, and then rubbed his nose against hers before reaching up and planting a kiss on her forehead. “I love you,” he said simply, sliding into her and groaning as her body clenched around him and pulled him in deeper.

She gasped and arched her back, taking him in as far as she could. “Dean…” she groaned, hooking her legs around his hips as he set a steady rhythm. She rocked her hips, meeting him at every thrust, and it wasn’t long before she felt the familiar butterflies in her stomach that told her she was close. She could tell he was almost at his end as his breathing had quickened and his thrusts were coming faster and harder. When his arms tightened beside her head and his mouth fell open, she allowed herself to fall over the edge with him, her body spasming all around him, her arms and legs quivering, her fingers and toes curling and tingling.

Dean collapsed on top of her, gasping for breath, his face buried in her neck. “Fuck, Dev,” he panted, pushing himself over so he was no longer crushing her.

Devon waited for her breathing to return to normal, her extremities continuing that lovely tingling feeling. “That was amazing,” she whispered, turning to look at him.

He was looking at her with a small smile, his face flushed and sweaty. “Yes, it was.”

She sat up and pressed her hand to his face, leaning down to kiss him. She pulled away and looked into his eyes. "I love you, too.”

Dean pulled her down and turned onto his side, spooning her from the back and pulling the sheet over them. “Now, try to get some sleep,” he whispered into her ear and began to softly sing an old Pink Floyd song. His deep, steady voice quickly had her lulled back to sleep.

An hour later, there was a banging on their door, causing Dean to jump up and grab his Bowie knife he kept under his pillow while he slept. “What the fuck?” he complained, quickly checking the peephole in the door and then stood back with a groan. “Do you know what fucking time it is?” he shouted, looking for his pajama pants he had carelessly discarded earlier.

“Yeah, time for you to get your ass up,” Sam’s muffled voice said through the door.

Devon groaned and headed into the bathroom to get dressed. “Damn him,” she grumbled.

Once she was in the bathroom and he had his pants back on, he opened the door for Sam, who walked in with a bag of bagels and three large cups of coffee. “Morning!” he said cheerily.

Dean glared at him. “Fuck you.” He grabbed a bagel from the bag and smeared a huge glob of cream cheese on it.

Sam arched an eyebrow at him. “Rough night?” 

Dean chewed. “Yeah,” he said around a mouthful of food. “Devon had her nightmare again. We just got back to sleep an hour ago.” He felt a tad better as the steaming coffee slid down his throat. 

“Umm hmm,” Sam said, eyeing the bed that was in total disarray.

“Fuck you,” Dean said again, hiding a smile behind his coffee cup.

Devon emerged from the bathroom, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, her hair up in a ponytail. She had thrown on some light makeup that wasn’t enough to hide the dark circles under her eyes. “Do I smell coffee?”

Sam handed her a cup. “Yep. And bagels. Get dressed, Dean. We have a lead to follow.”

Dean glared at him as he headed into the bathroom. “Don’t know what kind of lead is so important we have to check it out at five in the morning,” he grumbled.

Once he was dressed and they had eaten their fill of bagels, they grabbed their coffee cups and headed out. Sam directed him to the alley behind Zach’s apartment building, and Dean pulled over in a small parking area across from a dumpster. He cut the motor, and they climbed out, Sam looking up at the building.

“All right,” Dean said. “What’re we doing here at 5:30 in the damn morning?”

"I realized something," Sam said. “The videotape shows the killer going in but not coming out.”

Dean looked up at the apartment building. “So, he came out the back door?”

Sam walked away from them. “Right, so there should be a trail to follow… A trail the police would never pursue.”

“’Cause they think the killer never left,” Devon said, trying to wake up. 

“They caught your friend, Zach, inside. Still don’t know what we’re doing here at 5:30 in the morning,” Dean mumbled grouchily, drinking his coffee.

Sam was busy looking around the dumpster and the pergola that was put up to help hide it while Dean and Devon leaned against the Impala, watching him. Sam then walked over to a light pole, looking at it intently. He scoffed and looked at them. “Blood,” he said, nodding at a dark red smear on it. “Somebody came this way.”  
“Maybe the trail ends. I don’t see anything over here,” Dean said, having not moved from his spot. They heard a siren wailing, and an ambulance came racing down the alley past them. They jumped in the car and hurried after it. It only went two blocks before stopping in front of another apartment building. Dean parked the car, and they got out, mingling with the the small crowd that had gathered while police put up yellow crime scene tape. “What happened?” he asked a lady in jogging clothes.

“He tried to kill his wife,” she said, shocked. “Tied her up and beat her.”

Sam looked at her. “Really?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I used to see him going to work in the morning. He’d wave, say hello. He seemed like such a nice guy.”

They watched as the police put an Asian man dressed in a business suit into the back of a police car. He seemed in shock. 

“All right, you two go poke around out back. I’ll talk to the fuzz and see what I can find out,” Dean said, and Devon and Sam headed to the back of the building that the police had not even bothered with as they believed they had arrested the perp.

Dean met them shortly. “Hey, remember when I said this wasn’t our kind of problem? Definitely our kind of problem.”

“What did you find out?” Devon asked him.

“I talked to the patrolman who was first on the scene. He heard this guy Alex’s story. Apparently, the dude was driving home from a business trip when his wife was attacked.”

Sam nodded knowingly. “He was two places at once,” he said. 

“Exactly,” Dean says with a nod. “Then, he sees himself in the house. Police think he’s a nut job.” He grinned.

“Two dark doubles attacking loved ones in exactly the same way,” Devon said, thinking out loud. 

Dean nodded. “Could be the same thing doing it, too.”

Sam thought for a moment. “Shapeshifter? Something that can make itself look like anyone?”

Dean shrugged. “Every culture in the world has a shapeshifter lore… Legends of creatures who can transform themselves into animals or other men.”

“Right, skinwalkers, werewolves,” Devon said.

“We’ve got two attacks within blocks of each other,” Dean said. “I’m guessing we got a shapeshifter problem in the neighborhood.”

Sam looked around. “Let me ask you this. In all this shapeshifter lore, can any of them fly?”

Dean turned to watch him. “Not that I know of.”

“Me either,” Devon said.

Sam walked over to another light pole. “I picked up a trail here. Someone ran out of the back of this building, headed off this way.”

“Just like your friend’s house,” Dean said.

“Yeah, and just like at Zach’s house, the trail suddenly ends. Whatever it is just disappeared.”

Dean thought for a moment. “Well, there’s another way to go…down,” he said, looking down at a storm sewer grate.

They looked around and saw they were shielded from any passerby, so Dean pulled the cover off and climbed down the ladder. Devon followed next, and he helped catch her at the bottom. Sam came after them, sliding the cover back over the opening. Dean was looking both ways, looking for clues on which way to go. 

"I bet this runs right by Zach’s house, too,” Sam said. “The shapeshifter could be using the sewer system to get around.”

“I think you’re right,”Dean said, walking forward and kneeling down. “Look at this.” He pulled a pocketknife from his pocket to poke at a pile of flesh colored slime. Devon looked over his shoulder, not wanting to get too close, but Sam knelt down beside him. 

“Is this from his victims?” Devon asked, disgusted.

Dean flicked the goo off of his knife. “You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape, maybe it sheds.”

Sam looked at it for a moment. “That is sick.”

Dean stood up and hustled them back to the grate. Now that he knew the shapeshifter was moving around the sewer system, he did not want to be down there a moment longer without weapons. They climbed back up the ladder and headed to the car where Dean popped the trunk open, rummaging around. “Well, one thing I learned from Dad…no matter what kind of shapeshifter it is, there’s one sure way to kill it.” He pulled out a tray of silver bullets and began loading them into his gun’s magazine clip.

“Silver bullet to the heart,” Sam said with a smirk.

"That's right," Dean said.

Sam's cell phone rang, and he stepped away to answer it. “This is Sam.” He had hit the speaker button, so Devon and Dean could hear the conversation. 

“Where are you?” Rebecca asked him.

“We’re near Zach’s. We’re just checking some things out.”

“Well, Sam, just stop, because I really don’t need your help anymore,” she said. Devon could tell she was pissed.

Sam, however, just looked confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I told the lawyers that we went to the crime scene.”

He sighed. “Why would you do that?” Devon wondered if he was always this dense.

“I told them that we were with a police officer. And they checked it out, and they told me that there is no Detective Dean Winchester.”

“Beck –“

She interrupted him. “I don’t understand why you would lie to me about something like that.”

“We were trying to help,” he said with a sigh.

“Oh, trying to help? Do you realize that that was a sealed crime scene? This could have just ruined Zach’s case.”

He was pacing. “Beck, I’m sorry, but –“

“No. Goodbye, Sam,” she said angrily and hung up.

He sighed and leaned against the Impala, feeling like shit. Devon wished she could say something that would help, but she had no idea what it would be.

Dean walked over to him. “I hate to say it, but that’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

Devon rolled her eyes and glared at him, trying to tell him Sam did not need the I-told-you-so speech right now.

He continued. “You lie to your friends because if they knew the real you they’d be freaked. It’s just…it’d be easier if –“

“If I was like you,” Sam finished for him.

Dean shook his head. “Hey, man, like it or not, we are not like other people. But I’ll tell you one thing, this whole gig…it ain't without perks,” he said, handing Sam a pistol he had loaded with silver bullets.

Sam sighed and shook his head, taking the gun and sticking it in the back of his waistband. Devon smiled at him sadly, her own gun digging into her flesh. Dean hated giving her a gun, but he hated the idea of her being down in the sewers without one, and if for some reason they were separated, he knew she could shoot well enough. They headed back down below. Dean, as always, took the lead, feeling responsible for protecting his girlfriend and his little brother. They walked silently through the maze of corridors, stepping over water puddles from dripping water at street level, their flashlights cutting a sharp beam through the murky darkness. Sam led them down another tunnel, his gun drawn.

“I think we’re close to it’s lair,” Dean said.

Sam looked ahead. “Why do you say that?”

“’Cause there’s another puke-inducing pile next to your face,” he said.

Sam turned and saw the pile of slime on a large pipe that ran at head level. “Ugh, God,” he muttered, turning to get away from it. 

Dean's flashlight then lit up an old discarded pile of clothing. “Looks like it’s lived here for a while,” he said.

“Who knows how many murders he’s gotten away with?” Devon muttered.

Sam turned and shined his light behind them, gasping. “Dean!” he shouted, his light illuminating the shapeshifter that still looked like the businessman who had been arrested that morning.

Dean turned, but the shapeshifter backhanded him across the face, knocking him into a large pipe that was behind them. Sam pulled his gun and fired a few shots but missed. Dean grabbed his shoulder and groaned. “Get the son of a bitch,” he said, grunting in pain, and the three of them took off after it. 

They followed him topside to a small park, and they all emerged quickly, hiding their guns and trying to blend in. Dean was the last out, favoring his shoulder and groaning in pain. 

“All right, let’s split up,” Sam said.

Dean nodded. “All right. I’ll meet you around the other side. Devon, you head back to the car. And stay there,” he said to her firmly when she rolled her eyes. They all split from each other, Dean heading down an alley and Sam down a busy street, looking for the shapeshifter. They met up on the other side. “Hey! Anything?” he asked, spreading his arms in a question.

“No, he’s gone,” Sam said. 

“All right, let’s get back to the car,” Dean said, and they crossed a busy street, Dean behind Sam so that Sam did not see the silver reflection of his eyes.

They walked back to the car that was parked several blocks over and found Devon leaning up against the side. “You think he found another way underground?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, probably,” Dean answered. “You got the keys?”

Sam paused and turned to him. “Hey, didn’t Dad once face a shapeshifter in San Antonio?”

Dean looked at him for a moment, and Devon wondered what the hell was with his strange tone. “That was Austin. And it turned out not to be a shapeshifter. It was a thought-form – a psychic projection. Remember?”

Sam nodded slightly. “Oh. Right. Here you go,” he said, tossing the keys to Dean.

He walked around to the front of the car toward Devon while Dean opened the trunk and searched around inside. 

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” she asked him quietly, but he just shook his head.

Sam walked to the other side of the trunk and pulled his gun. “Don’t move!” he shouted at Dean who looked at him as if he had lost his mind.

“Sam?! What the fuck?” Devon asked in shock.

“What have you done with him?” Sam demanded.

Dean put his hands up. “Dude, chill. It’s me, all right?”

Sam kept the gun trained on him. “No, I don’t think so. Where’s my brother?”

“You’re about to shoot him. Sam, calm down,” Dean said.

“Sam!” Devon pleaded, wondering why his cheese had slid off his cracker all of a sudden.

“You caught those keys with your left,” he said. “Your shoulder was hurt.”

Devon looked at Dean in surprise, now beginning to wonder if it really was Dean.

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, it’s better. What do you want me to do, cry?”

Sam shook his head. “You’re not my brother.”

Dean stood with his hands apart and that cocky expression on his face. “Why don’t you pull the trigger then, hmm? Because you’re not sure. Dude, you know me.”

Devon was beginning to believe Sam. It just didn’t seem like Dean to her.

“Don’t,” Sam said but was suddenly knocked out when Dean pulled a crowbar out from the hood of the trunk and smacked his gun away before cracking him in the head with it. Before Devon could scream, he had punched her in the jaw, knocking her out, as well.

XXX

Sam came to suddenly and immediately noticed that he was tied to a metal post, a rope even wrapped around his neck. He looked around, multiple lit candles casting eerie reflections around the damp concrete walls. He turned when he heard someone walk in, and he saw Dean – or rather, the shapeshifter as Dean – enter the room, a length of rope slung over his shoulder. The fake Dean walked over to him and looked at him for a moment before he backhanded Sam across the face. Fake Dean then walked past him. 

Sam groaned, noticing Devon was tied to a similar post across from him, and she was slowly waking up. “Where is he? Where’s Dean? Devon, you okay?”

She pulled at the ropes binding her. “Yeah, if you call this okay.”

“I wouldn’t worry about him,” Fake Dean said. “I’d worry about you.” He walked past Sam again, a large duffel bag in his hands.

“Where is he?” Sam asked again. 

“You don't really want to know. I swear, the more I learn about you and your family… I thought I came from a bad background,” Fake Dean said, scoffing and shaking his head. 

Sam looked at him for a moment before making eye contact with Devon. “What do you mean, learn?”

Fake Dean picked up a large knife and added it to the bag he was packing. He suddenly put his hand up to his temple, his face scrunched up in a grimace as if he was in pain. After a moment, he pulled his hand away with a grunt. He looked over at Sam with a look of sympathy on his face. “He’s sure got issues with you,” he said. “You got to go to college. He had to stay home.” He threw the bag on the floor. “I mean, I had to stay home…with Dad. You don’t think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you? And you…” He said, leaning down to look at Devon. “Just someone else I have to take care of, watch out for, can’t take care of yourself… One more responsibility.” He shook his head in disgust.

She glared at him, her head throbbing.

"Where is my brother?" Sam asked again.

Fake Dean leaned down into his face. “I’m your brother. See, deep down…I’m just jealous. You got friends, you could have a life. Me? I know I’m a freak, and sooner or later, everybody’s gonna leave me,” he said, looking at Devon. He stood up and walked away.

“What are you talking about?” Sam asked.

“You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me, too. No explanation. Nothing. Just…poof.” He glared at Sam, and Devon would have sworn they were talking to the real Dean with how he seemed to have the inside scoop into Dean’s head. “Left me with your sorry ass. But still, this life, it’s not without its perks. I meet the nicest people,” he said with a laugh, “like Little Becky. You know Dean would bang her if he had the chance.” He looked over at Devon with a smirk. “Let’s see what happens.” He then threw a tarp over Sam and one over Devon, and they heard the sounds of his footsteps retreating.

Once he could no longer hear Fake Dean, Sam began wiggling and trying to get the tarp off. “Devon, can you get loose?”

He could hear her rustling around. “Maybe. I don’t think he tied me as tightly as he did you.” She was twisting and turning, the ropes burning her skin. She managed to get the tarp off her head and took a deep breath of cool air.

Sam was also moving around and managed to get the covering off of his head. He continued to mess with the ropes binding him. “Dammit,” he muttered.

They heard a cough and a thud, then they heard Dean’s voice. “That better be you guys and not that freak of nature.”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, it's us. He went to Rebecca's, looking like you.”

“Well, he's not stupid. He picked the handsome one,” Dean joked, working on his binding. “Dev, you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” 

Dean kept working at the ropes, sawing them against the rough metal he was tied to. “How long did it take you to realize he wasn't me?”

“Not long,” Sam said.

“Talk about a creepy feeling, seeing yourself move around like that.”

Sam grunted. “Yeah, that's the thing. He didn't just look like you. He was you…or was becoming you.”

Dean felt his bindings break, and he pulled the ropes off. “What do you mean?”

“I don't know,” Sam said, “its like he was downloading your thoughts and memories.”

“You mean like the Vulcan mind-meld?” Dean asked, making Devon shake her head in amusement. He finally pulled all his ropes off.

Sam continued to work on his. “Yeah. Something like that. I mean, maybe that’s why he doesn’t just kill us.”

Dean stood up and hurried to Devon, untying her bindings. He ran his fingers regretfully over the rope burns on her wrists. He then turned to Sam and began untying him. “Maybe he needs to keep us alive – a psychic connection.”

“Yeah, come on, we gotta go. He’s probably at Rebecca’s already,” Sam said, standing up.

They took off down a corridor, looking for a way out. They quickly found a grate that lead outside and kicked it loose.

“Come on, we gotta find a phone, call the police,” Sam said, climbing out and helping Devon out into the alley.

Dean climbed out. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. You’re gonna put an APB out on me?”

Sam shrugged. “Sorry.”

“This way,” Dean said and they all jogged down the alley, looking for a Main Street. They quickly found a busy thoroughfare and began walking swiftly down the sidewalk, trying to figure out where they were and what the quickest way to Rebecca’s was, stopping at a pay phone to call 911. Eventually, they passed by an electronics store with a bunch of televisions in the window, all turned to a news report. They stopped to listen.

“An anonymous tip led police to a home in the central west end, where a SWAT team discovered a local woman, bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately 24 to 30 years of age, was discovered hiding in the home. Shots were fired. Police are saying the subject fled the scene on foot.”

A sketch artist’s drawing was on the screen, resembling Dean.

“Man, that’s not even a good picture,” he complained. 

Sam was looking around, hoping no one noticed them. “It’s good enough.”

“Man,” Dean scoffed, grabbing Devon’s hand and following Sam. They headed down another alley, and he stepped in a puddle. “Aw, come on! Shit!”

Sam kept walking. “They said attempted murder. At least we know you didn’t –“

“I didn’t kill her!” Dean interrupted, aggravated.

“I’ll check on Rebecca in the morning to see if she’s all right,” Sam said.

Dean was striding along beside him, oblivious to Devon practically jogging to keep up. “All right, but first I want to find that handsome bastard and kick the holy shit out of him.”

Sam stopped and spread his arms. “We have no weapons. No silver bullets.”

“Sam, the guy’s walking around with my face, okay? It’s a little personal. I want to find him.” Dean stopped walking and turned to face him.

Sam nodded. “Okay, where do we look?”

"Well, we could start with the sewers,” Dean said impatiently.

“We have no weapons. He stole our guns. We need more,” Sam said. “The car?”

“I bet he drove over to Rebecca’s,” Devon said. “The news said he fled on foot. I bet it's still parked there.”

Dean groaned. “Oh, the thought of him driving my car…”

They started walking again. “Aw, come on,” Sam said with a small grin. 

“It’s killing me!”

“Let it go, babe,” Devon said, groaning at how fast they were walking again.

After about twenty minutes of walking, they arrived in the alley behind Rebecca’s house and saw the Impala sitting there.

“Ah,” Dean said with a chuckle. “There she is! Finally, something went right tonight.”

They started walking toward the car, but a police car came flying up, sirens wailing.

“Fuck,” Dean said, and they all turned to run the other way, but the alley was blocked off by another police car. “This way, this way!” he shouted, heading toward a fence.

Sam stopped. "You two go. I’ll hold them off.”

Devon looked at him like he had lost his mind. “What are you talking about, they’ll catch you.”

He shooed them away. “They can’t hold me! Just go. Keep out of sight. Meet me at Rebecca’s.”

Dean scaled the fence, helping Devon over it to the other side.

“Dean, stay out of the sewers alone!” Sam shouted at him. “I mean it!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean muttered back, and he and Devon sprinted through backyards until they were several blocks away. They found a child’s playhouse that had some sleeping bags in it and hunkered down to try to sleep for the few hours until sunup.

Once dawn broke, they jogged back to the Impala.

“I wonder if Sam’s been released yet,” Devon said as Dean shifted through the items in the trunk, loading more silver bullets into another handgun’s magazine.

“Hopefully,” he replied, handing her the gun and loading another for himself.

She looked at him. “You promised Sam you would wait for him.”

He shoved the magazine clip into the gun. “I’m sorry, Sam,” he said. “You know me. I just can’t wait.”

Devon rolled her eyes and followed Dean back down into the sewer system. They were beginning to become familiar with the winding passages and corridors and came upon the shapeshifter’s lair quickly. Dean went first, his left hand holding the flashlight and supporting his right hand with the gun, just like his father had trained him to do. 

It was still dimly lit by candles, globs of the shredded slime scattered around. Devon noticed he had cell phones, watches and cash laying around – no doubt stolen from his many victims. Suddenly, they heard a thud, and Dean pointed his light into the corner where they saw a tarp moving. He pulled it off, and they saw Rebecca sitting there, tied up with rope, her hair a mess. “Rebecca?” he said in surprise.

“Oh, thank god,” she said in relief.

“What happened?” Devon asked her while Dean untied her.

She swallowed. “I-I was walking home, and everything went white. Someone hit me over the head, and I wound up here just in time to see that thing turn into me. I don’t know… How is that even possible?”

“Okay, okay. It’s okay,” Dean said, getting the last rope off of her. “Come on, can you walk?”

She nodded and rubbed at her face.

He grabbed her hand to help her stand. “Okay, we gotta hurry. Sam went to see you.”

XXX

Sam came to just as the shapeshifter – again looking like Dean – finished tying rope around his wrists. He sure hadn’t seen it coming. He thought he had been talking to Rebecca, and instead, it turned out to be the creature they were hunting, which meant he had Rebecca tied up somewhere. “What are you gonna do to me?”

“I’m not gonna do anything,” Fake Dean said, turning to smile at him. “Dean will, though.”

Sam scoffed, shaking his head. “They’ll never catch him.”

Fake Dean was looking through drawers. “Oh, doesn’t matter. Murder in the first of his own brother…he’ll be hunted the rest of his life.” He pulled a large chef knife out of the block on the counter. “I must say…I will be sorry to lose this skin. Your brother’s got a lot of good qualities. You should appreciate him more than you do.” He poured himself a glass of whiskey from the bar in the rec room they were in. “Cheers,” he said to Sam, holding the glass up before taking a drink. He then set the glass down on the pool table before picking up the large kitchen knife and sticking it point down into the edge. 

Sam looked around for a moment before deciding to act. He drew back and kicked his bound feet forward, knocking Fake Dean onto the floor. He got to his knees quickly and used the knife sticking up to cut through the ropes that were binding him. He then grabbed the knife and began swinging it at the shapeshifter, but Fake Dean managed to grab his arm and force it behind his back, making him flip over and drop the knife. 

“Oh, you son of a bitch,” Fake Dean said angrily, walking toward him. 

He went to punch Sam, but Sam grabbed his arm and flipped him over, but then Fake Dean managed to turn the tables and grabbed his arm, forcing it behind him. Sam then grabbed his arm and turned, putting him in a hold.

Fake Dean laughed. “Not bad, little brother,” he said.

"You're not him,” Sam said through gritted teeth, applying pressure to his shoulder. 

The shapeshifter leaned back and punched Sam in the face, and they both fell away from each other, panting. They then traded some punches before Fake Dean kicked Sam into a bookshelf. He fell to the ground, the broken shelves and books showering down around him. 

“Even when we were kids, I always kicked your ass,” Fake Dean said, picking up a pool cue and swinging it at him.

Sam ducked and rolled as he kept trying to hit him with the wooden stick. He kicked Fake Dean in the chest, and they hit each other some more before Fake Dean ran and slammed Sam down into the coffee table. He then wrapped his hands around Sam’s throat and squeezed.

Sam fought against him, but he had too good of a hold, and he saw everything begin to go dark.

“Hey!” Dean shouted. They had all just entered the room to see Sam being choked to death by an exact replica of Dean..

Fake Dean let go of Sam, who gasped for breath, and backed up, eyeing Dean warily as he had a gun pointed at him. Dean suddenly shot twice, hitting the shifter in the chest and killing him instantly. Fake Dean was slammed back into the wall and collapsed on the floor. Dean approached him cautiously while Devon ran to Sam. He looked down at himself, his expression unreadable, and he pulled his amulet off of his body. “Sam, you okay?” he asked, turning to look at his little brother who was now sitting on the floor and leaning against the sofa.

Sam rubbed at his neck. “I’ll live.”

“Look, I’m sure one of my neighbors heard those gunshots. You all get out of here, and I’ll take care of…this,” Rebecca said, waving her hand at the dead body.

Dean nodded and wiped his prints from the gun he had, leaving it with her. She was going to tell the police Fake Dean had returned to finish the job from the night before, and she had shot him. They hurried out to the car and headed back to the motel.

“You wanna get a shower and go get something to eat?” Dean asked them.

Devon groaned at the thought. “Can’t we just order in? I’m exhausted.”

Sam grinned and nodded. “I’m with Dev on this. I’m beat.”

Dean scowled. “I was really jonesing for a burger from that little diner here.” He pulled up in front of the motel.

“I’ll tell you what,” Devon said, turning to him. “I’ll go in and take a shower now, and you can go to the diner and just get our order to go and bring it back here. I’ll be done by the time you get back then you can shower, and we can all go to sleep.”

He nodded. “Sounds like a plan.” 

XXX

The next day, they went back to Rebecca’s house to check up on her and tell her goodbye. She answered the door immediately. “Come in!” 

Sam shook his head. “Nah, we’re on our way out of town but wanted to stop by first.”

She hugged Devon and Dean, and they headed back to the car to give Sam some privacy. Dean spread a map out on the hood, and they discussed where they were going next.

“So, this is what you do?” she said to Sam. “You and your brother…you hunt down these kinds of things?”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, pretty much.”

She smiled at him. “I can’t believe it. I mean, I saw it with my own eyes, and… I mean, does everybody at school…nobody knows that you do this?”

“No,” he said with a sigh.

“Did Jessica know?”

He paused for a moment, his heart clenching at the mention of her. “No, she didn’t.”

She smiled at him slightly. “It must be lonely.”

“Oh, no. No, it’s not so bad. Anyway, what can I do? It’s my family.”

“Well, you know, Zach and me and everybody at school, we really miss you,” she said, reaching up to give him a hug. 

He hugged her back. “Yeah, me too,” he said softly.

“Well, will you call sometime?” she asked him as she pulled away.

He pressed his lips together. “It might not be for a little while.”

Rebecca nodded slightly and turned to walk inside, waving at Dean and Devon, who were leaningg against the car, waiting on Sam. Sam walked over to them with a sigh.

“So, what about your friend, Zach?” Dean asked him.

“The cops are blaming this Dean Winchester guy for Emily’s murder. Found the murder weapon in the guy’s lair, Zach’s clothes stained with her blood. Now they’re thinking maybe the surveillance tape was tampered with. Yeah, Rebecca says Zach will be released soon.”

Dean rolled his eyes, and they all got into the car, Devon in her regular position between the boys. They didn’t say anything while Dean drove out of the city. Finally, he spoke. “Sorry, man.”

Sam looked at him. “About what?”

“I really wish things could be different, you know? I wish you could just be Joe College.”

“Ah, it’s okay. You know, truth is, even at Stanford, deep down, I never really fit in,” Sam said.

Dean nodded. “Well, that’s because you’re a freak.”

Devon punched him in the shoulder. “Dean!”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Well, I’m a freak, too,” Dean said. “I’m right there with you all the way.”

“Yeah, I know you are.”

Dean shook his head. “You know, I gotta say, I’m sorry I'm gonna miss it.”

Devon looked at him. “Miss what?”

He looked over at them. “How many chances am I gonna have to see my own funeral?”

Sam grinned at him, and Devon wrapped her arms around his right arm loosely, laying her head on his shoulder. They may all be freaks, but she couldn’t think of anyone else she would rather be with.


End file.
